


Severus Snape-Prince and the Philosopher's Stone

by Brennah_K



Series: From Gringotts to Hogwarts - with love [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural (Death), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Evil Albus Dumbledore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-01-12 01:04:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18435833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brennah_K/pseuds/Brennah_K
Summary: First sequel to Gringotts' Lesser Known Branch: If you haven't read the first, there's a good chance this won't make sense.Also,  Harry and Rishard's first year through a spy's eyes... And Severus has to deal with a prophecy - about him - for a change





	1. Out of the Mouths of Prophets

 

As he let the door close behind him, Severus set the bundle of his portable tool roll, cauldron, supplies, and heating slate on the small side table he’d placed by the door to receive them on his return from his scheduled instruction sessions with the House of Lords.

Despite the sessions having become one of the more fervently-anticipated periods of his week, this particular evening’s session -focused on the correct and delicate preparation of the herbs for the potions they would begin the next morning- had been tiring and had taxed Severus’s already on-edge nerves, marred as they were by the unexpected pronouncement which had interrupted the school's evening meal and overshadowed everything that had followed after.

He should have recognized from the very beginning of the session, when Lady Frobisher had sliced the soft tissue between the second and third thumb joints of her left hand, simply trying to remove the flint edged blade of her floral knife from its case, that the session was nearly a lost cause. Having no desire to feed the incipient display put on by the tottering old lush by giving any indication of how much the hack’s prediction had rattled him, Severus had attempt to push through the lesson, ignoring Lady Armistad-Granger's pale expression and tendency to glance away from him quickly when he passed her station. His godson was hardly better with red-rimmed eyes and a quivering lip whenever he looked Severus's direction. Even the normally more stoic Potter and Fischer-Watson-Potter heirs seemed more prone to studying him and exchanging pensive glances when they thought he wasn't observing them.

While their blatant concern was kinder than he had come to expect from students, and he begrudgingly appreciated it for that fact, it was nevertheless exhausting, and the normally ninety minute session had stretched into a barely productive three hundred sixty minute session before the heirs finally had sufficient quantities to brew the morning session's assigned potions.

Despite being the cause of their distraction, Severus hadn't had the energy to argue the point when Lord Potter handed him a second Gringotts’ voucher adjusting the session fee to reflect the additional time spent. Ironically, where he would have been pleased to receive even a tenth of the amount from the Headmaster in remuneration for his normal duties (assigned -without salary- through the 'unoffical parole’ that the Headmaster had 'negotiated’ for him sans trial, “after all” the Headmaster, and Chief Mugwump, had convincingly argued, Severus would lose “for certainly no one would credit even the veritaserum-enhanced testimony of a potion master”) … receiving a much higher standard from the heirs for tuition that was outside of the scope of his normal duties made him uncomfortable. Arguing the point had gotten him nowhere when the young retention manager was always quick to point out that he was offering Severus neither more nor less than any of the other Professors- even though some of them didn't even have a first mastery in the subject they taught and Severus had two and should unquestionably be receiving more for that fact alone. The boy had been in the goblins care long enough to have learned to anticipate arguments and usually have a ready answer waiting… and Severus, not having the energy to out-argue Lord Potter after the long and draining evening, had simply conceded, accepting the voucher before gratefully retreating to the solitude of his quarters.

Trying to ignore the slight vibration transmitted through his collar from his shaking fingers as he began to unbutton his collar, Severus paused to slow and steady the movements his thumb and forefinger turning the simple act into a meditation - as he had not done (or needed to do) in just over a decade. He stroked his thumb pad in a small circle over the small cloth top of the button, once, twice, a third and a fourth time, before pushing the button through on the fifth stroke. Five buttons from the top of his collar to the base of his throat were opened in this manner before his fingers moved to the double-breasted panel running from his collarbone to waist, where he reversed the direction of the small circling movement as he moved through the five buttons on each side.

Having gained slightly more composure than when he had started on the buttons at his throat, he slowed his breathing to making an exhale with each button being pushed through its loop. By the time he reached the placket of his slacks and opened it to pull the edges of his shirt free from his waistline, the rigid posture that he had both forced on himself and endured since hearing Trelawny first utterance of the Prince surname had finally relaxed even if it left him somewhat aching from the absence of the surrendered tensions.

His fleeting progress towards calm vanished with the almost unnoticeable brush of a small animal against his personal wards and the fleeting image of a grey tabby flashing across his occluded mind - identifying the not-unwelcome if momentarily undesired guest. He was half inclined to simply ignore the witch when another brush across his wards was accompanied by a rather forcefully-pushed image of a full bottle of Glenfiddich.

Snorting at the totally unsubtle bribe, Severus sighed, momentarily dropping his wards as he moved to tuck his shirt tales back in.

“Now don't you bother on my account,” Minerva McGonagall chuckled, “I've always thought you could use a tad less starch.”

Debating briefly whether to call her on the hypocrisy of decrying his stiff manner compared to her own, Severus instead ceased his efforts to redress and peaking a brow - inquired, “I believe there was an offer made of Glenfiddich?”

“Yes, yes,” Minerva laughed before reaching up to detach what looked to be three charms from a barely-noticeable thin silver necklace. “One musn't forget to pay one's entrance fees.”

Laughing at his gaping expression and quick glances back and forth between the numerous other charms on her necklace and the now resized bottle, she teased, “Now, Severus, you couldn't think that I, a good and proper Scotswoman, would ever hold with wasting liquor down a drain?”

”I apologise for my failure to recognize the impracticality of doing so.” He retorted, feeling lighter for the banter.

“And so you should. Every year these poor bairn spend good money on spirits they haven't the common sense to enjoy off school grounds. Pouring their labors out only adds insult to the injury of having it confiscated.”

“And, yet, I canna’ remember a time’ he taunted lightly mimicking her brogue, “you held with nawt a lick less detention then I settle on mine.”

“Well, of course not, what kind of teacher would I be if I didn't impress on them to mend their ways?”

”A poor one, Minerva, a poor one. I commend your dedication!” He lifted his glass in a toast. Holding back from expressing his sincere respect for her - even in private - needlessly pandering to Slytherin sensibilities to preserve the slimmest potential of spying at some future point seemed even more pointless now than previously, but he almost completely regretted his maudlin instinct only a moment later.

“Oooh, Severus,” she murmured sadly, a moment later. “Foolish boy, nothing is certain, yet.”

Lifting his glass in a delicate challenge, silently pointing out the well-meant lie in her words: neither of them were naive enough to believe she would be there so early in the year before the children had even settled in enough to discard manners, rules, and common sense and revert to the dunderheads, ruffians, louts, and slugs they tended towards mimicking -- if she didn't believe Trelawny's most recent prophecy at least as deeply as he.

“Still…” she protested, barely acknowledging the truth of his gesture, “There's room for translation… there's always room for translation."  
  


”The Princely Heir

    this year shall fall.”

He murmered softly, his gentle tone, somehow sounding more final than Trelawny's wretching announcement had sounded in the great hall as it had shocked the assembled to silence... a rare feat.

Quietly, staring into her eyes -his obsidian gaze silently arguing the clarity of the words and his acceptance of their import - he continued:  


  
"The potioneer’s eyes

  
    unclouded in death’s pall.

  


Atlas' shoulders

  


    unburdened of oaths and old hate…

  


Un-marked and free

  


    his past expiate.

  


The stopper pulled,

  


    his task - fulfilled

  


His future enured

  


    as Fates have willed.”


	2. A Lesson in History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "No galleonclaw may cast the first strike, nor shrink from the last."

”What is known of the _History of Magic_ begins during in the period known to eternal beings as the Sixth Age. That is not to say that magic did not exist, nor occur prior to this age; however, before this, what you would call magic was so integral and integrated into the manifestation of eternal beings as to occur without conscious thought or whim. The magic of an eternal being occurred simply as a result of the being’s presence. Dohwa do Aes Sidhe, the Queen of Aes Sídhe, of Tír na nÓg, and Elfhame offers a perfect example of this: cut grain and burning wood will green, grow, and bloom in her presence. Hers is the incarnation of life endowing magics.”

“Prior to this age,” the goblin instructor began, only to be interrupted when Lady Armistad-Granger’s hand shot up, waving urgently. The goblin’s expression was so nearly… for lack of a better word … ‘gobsmacked’ that Severus was hard put not to laugh outright and forced to take several deep breaths to ensure his composure before he could comment to the still waving heiress, “Lady Armistad-Granger, I believe you have captured Master…”

“Magister Magia, of the Clan Ragnrok,” the goblin instructor replied, casting a silencing glance at Lord Potter, which Severus found intriguing and made silent note of for later consideration, even as he continued: “Magister Magia’s attention. I presume you have a question.” 

”Quite a few actually, Sir,” the young witch answered with honest enthusiasm, somewhat clearly surprising the goblin Master or ‘Magister’ of ‘Magia’, which Severus presumed referred to Magical History or Magical Theory. He could hardly fault the creature for his surprise, however, as the goblin had barely completed the fifth sentence of his first history lecture, and the child already had questions.

“Understand, Lady Armistad-Granger, that while it is my intention to instruct fully in the subject of Magical History, as has been agreed upon, certain protocols will be followed during this instruction. For the purposes of this instruction, you are to observe the provided lectures, with your full attention… ” the goblin answered somewhat tersely, glaring at the notepad that Severus suspected contained the first five sentences of the lecture -verbatim- before continuing, “after the lecture session is provided, you may research the information provided, seeking the answer to any question you may have from the materials assigned, negotiate with your fellow heirs and heiresses for access to their notes or supplementary tutoring, or if additional assistance is required, you may submit a request for an appointment with myself to clarify any remaining questions. Lord Potter can provide you with the details of how you may do this as well as my fee schedule for such clarification and information on study aids that you may find useful. Now, if I may continue?” 

”Yes, Magister Magia.” Lady Armistad-Granger agreed with an embarrassed blush before apologizing softly, to which the Magister merely nodded.

Severus confessed, if only to himself, that he was impressed by the goblin’s abrupt though - not particularly rude- for his species - method of redirecting the heirs back to the lecture. It wasn’t a method that he could practically apply to the standard potions classes; however, it was one more reason that he was glad that he had agreed to ‘supervise’ the outside tutoring arranged for the House of Lords, after yet another disagreement with the Headmaster, who would have happily shut down any chance of the heirs and heiresses receiving any outside instruction.

Unfortunately for the Headmaster, Lords Potter, Fisher-Watson-Potter, Longbottom and Malfoy were quick to contact the board and, citing the inferior History, Defense, Arithmancy, and Runes NEWTS scores of Hogwarts’ graduates versus the superior scores of Gringotts-trained graduates in the same subjects, easily convinced them of their desired solutions (already permitted under the charter for the House of Lords) while simultaneously directing unwanted attention - unwanted at least by the headmaster- to the sluggish success rates of recent Hogwarts’ graduates. Reluctant not to meddle somehow, the Headmaster had attempted to put numerous constraints on the additional tuition, which were almost exclusively shut down by the board, except for the demand to have at least one instructor (preferably a head of house - to the Headmaster’s quickly hidden displeasure) supervising each session. Severus was hardly surprised when the Headmaster approached him to supervise the classes - most likely believing he had the greatest control over Severus due to the unofficial parole.

Severus had made a show of grumbling, sighing, and arguing the idea, but in truth, he was more than intrigued, and more than happy to sit in on the sessions - not only for picking up instructional techniques but also, he found, for the amount of material he, himself, was learning, having never heard much of the information during his own school years.

Turning his attention back to the Magister Magia when the goblin subtly cleared his throat, Severus was slightly embarrassed to realise that the goblin had been waiting for his own distraction to end, before silencing some brief conversation between Lord Potter and Lady Armistad-Granger with a gesture, and continuing:

“The conscious manipulation of magic was only in the hands of the Istari Maiar who were sent by Valar to incarnate in the image of man aiding the races of dwarves, elves, and man in their struggle against the corruption spawned by Morgoth. In this incarnation, cloaked in the guise of elderly men, appearing frail, but in truth possessing great vigour, the Istari wielded great and terrible skills with their hands and minds. Bearing many powers men didn’t, they were misnamed by mankind as “ _Wise Men_ ” or “wizards”, but they were subject to hunger and pain, and could be killed. It was long perceived that these ‘Wise Men’ were incorruptible, but as with any extreme - this was not true: the Maiar were not immune to corruption born by the lure of power and disdain for the races of dwarves, elves, and man, with lesser powers who could not consciously wield magic. This fact can be seen in the histories of Saruman, the White, and of Sauron, once known as Tar-Mairon, the ‘Admirable King’ before his corruption by the evil of Melkor.”

“It was during the Fifth and Sixth Ages that were born the beings that are now known to you as magical creatures: fairies, vampires, werewolves, phoenix, veela, and other magical beasts and half-bloods including the tribes known to Elves and Eternal beings as Orcs. While those who bear the name ‘Orc’ - in this age - are a true race descending from the same ancestors as Trolls and Uruk Hai, it was not always so… The title Orc was in its origins a slur - referring to those of ‘Polluted’ Elven blood and included Trolls, Wraith, Ghoul, Siren, Wights, and Goblin.”

"Intolerant of the so-called ‘Pollution’ of their blood, the Kinslayers of Alqualondë, clans of ‘pure’ Elven blood decried those slurred as orcs to be discordant to ‘The Great Song’ and engaged in a War of Wrath to purge ‘discordant elements’ from the Music of the Spheres. Lead by the example of Elves, Humans joined seeking to eliminate the half-blood races abhorrent to their own perceived purity, including Weres, Vampire, Malafae, Giants, Centaur, and others. It came to pass, during this war, that Goblin, the descendants of the Avari Elves, who roamed middle earth as equals to all therein, and the Kobold, mischievous fae-like magic users who quickly perished in the beginning of the wars, while many, were not strong enough to stand alone against the combined clans of Elves, Human, and Dwarves, and soon fell under the spell of Tar-Mairon, the ‘Admirable King’ - who would become Sauron - believing that he who most sought order and service - in accepting their existence, would not fail… and so were corrupted as he was corrupted.” 

Even Severus was caught fast in the intensity of the Magister’s voice and gaze when he paused, interrupting himself, as he considered them, before he spoke again, his tone blunt and honest, “We, Goblin, do not forget this, nor hide from this truth: in fear for our survival, our race allowed itself to become the servants of terrible evil; we actively propagated the very fears that fed this evil and ultimately reinforced the reasons opposing races attempted to extinguish our existence. We did not and do not seek to exculpate our roles in this history, only in the centuries since, to atone where feasible for the actions of our ancestors -- but nor do we absolve those who moved against us of their actions - no matter how short their memories.”

More than one of his audience shuddered lightly at his tone before casting telling glances to Lord Potter to gauge his reaction- taking comfort from the mild expression of the young man who probably knew the goblins best, before turning their attentions back to the Magister.

“As with all conflicts and enmities, after many battles, the War of Wrath passed into the histories of our peoples, but not without bringing about changes in those who had fought it and survived it. Judged each, by magic, those who had fought solely for the survival of their races were granted access to magic for their use and protection (among these goblin, human, and some weres), those who refrained from the battles on either side but neither sought to protect those whom they could have (numbering the vampires, centaur, and Malafae) were granted perceptions to see the costs and outcomes of their actions but not magic to influence them, and those who fought for their own gain ((also including humans), dragons, trolls, and giants) were reduced to their basest natures and blinded to all but the environments around them. In this way, Man also saw a sundering between the peoples who saw, knew, and could use magic and the peoples who were blind not only to magic itself, but to the magical creatures who shared the land with them: those whom you now refer to as muggles, no maj, blanks, and norms… among many other ‘quaint’ terms.”

“Though it would take centuries for the races who were gifted with the access and use of magic to systematically and consistently use this gift, this is where you will find the true beginning of the History of Magic or more accurately stated the History of the Use of Magic, which we will be discussing through the remainder of your school year. For our next session, you are to read and digest the first twenty-three pages of the forward to Tol’grett’s Epistemological History of the Phenomenon of Magic. Be prepared to discuss whether accidental magics are need or desire based with cogent examples. Lord Potter, a word?”

As Potter escorted the Magister Magia to the House of Lords Floo, another feature that had driven the Headmaster nearly irate, Severus scanned the half-round lecture table, studying the students expressions, amused and curios, as to whether their impressions of the lecture had matched his own. He was pleased to see that the only student who seemed completely disconnected from the discussion was Lady Frobisher (not really a surprise there), while Lady Armistad-Granger was writing nearly fast enough to tear the parchment with her quill - no doubt trying to capture questions to research in the coming days. He was almost eager to see the discussions that would be pulled to the forefront in the coming days. If only all of Hogwarts’ students could receive these lessons.


	3. In Defense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _‘No galleonclaw will shirk from the unending duties of mastering mind, body, weapon, and skills in service to the Nation.'_  
> 

The soft sound of chuckling alerted Severus to the approach of his colleague, as Filius Flitwick came up and sat on a cluster of shorter stones, one knee bent, his foot propped on a slightly higher stone. Severus had to take a couple of breaths, before he could stand up properly and meet the other Professor’s gaze as he gestured to the string of heirs circling the quidditch field and panted, “How can you keep up with them?”

Smiling, Filius held out a conjured glass filled with water that he had thankfully chilled for Severus, answering: “Oh, it’s by no means easy, my friend,” with a laugh. “If I didn’t enjoy the dueling circuits so much, I would have fallen out of shape years ago. As it is, the only way I am able to maintain even minimal fitness is that after lessons but before dinner and tutoring, I make my way to the room of requirement and put at least an hour in, daily. It is so easy to fall out of practice if you don’t keep up with it.”

“Fall out of shape, you mean,” Severus gasped with a painful exhale.

“As you say,” Filius agreed, without a trace of condescension, “But, considering that you have certainly been kept busy enough over the last few years, I can hardly see how you would have had time to practice. It was surprising to me, as it was, to see how many papers and potions you have managed to develop, in spite of your additional… required duties. It has been quite a relief for me to see how the recent changes in … curriculum ... have seemed to give you additional shall we say downtime.”

Nodding his agreement, though refraining from making a comment that could have been construed as criticizing the Headmaster, Severus instead turned and watched as the preteens finished their warm up runs and were being divided into groups to work between five defense masters. Following his gaze, Filius nodded as if answering an unspoken question. 

“I suppose it is odd to see,” Filius suggested, but to Severus it wasn't quite clear what he was referring to; there were any number of qualities that were odd about the heirs and heiresses, though little that stood out at the moment.

”I'm sorry, what?” He questioned, hoping he hadn't missed some comments in his distraction. 

“Female Defense Masters,” Filius answered in a questioning tone. 

”Odd? Why would they be?” Severus questioned curiously. Despite years of paying strict attention to his posture and stance, Severus felt his head cock slightly to the side, inadvertently expressing his curiosity as Filius studied him intently before chuckling again.

“Why indeed, I apologise for assuming that you would have given credence to the fallacy that goblins keep their females locked away permitting them only the tasks of mating and cooking.” 

”I can't say that I have ever given a great deal of consideration to the matter before, though that is an assumption I can honestly say I would not have credited if I had taken the time to consider it. I do have a question though, about the division of the students. Why are Lord Finch-Fletchley and Lady Frobisher working with a single defense master, Lord's Longbottom and Zabini and Ladies Armistad-Granger, Bones, and Zeller sharing one of the defense mistresses, while Lords Fisher-Watson-Potter, Malfoy, and Potter are each working individually with a defense master or mistress? Wouldn't it be more effective to divide the students more evenly? Lord Zabini's scores nearly matched with both Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter's and Lord Malfoy’s and Lady Frobisher's scores were higher than those of both Lady Armistad-Granger and Lady Zeller, so it doesn't seem to equate solely to skill levels if at all.”

“Very astute,” Filius complimented his former student, “the primary feature of their division is what you might call their defense attitude. Lords Malfoy, Potter, and Fisher-Watson-Potter have what might be considered a proactive attitude toward defense in being open to confronting or challenging a threat before it reaches or threatens themselves or those under their protection while Lords Zabini and Longbottom, Lady Bones and Lady Armistad-Granger and to a lesser extent Lady Zeller, will fight to protect themselves and others but are less inclined to take advanced action to deter a threat.” 

Pausing to muse briefly over his previous speculations about his godson's more Gryffindor-ish traits, Severus considered the last group before asking, “And Lady Frobisher and Lord Finch-Fletchley?” Though perhaps the answer was obvious.

“Absolute last resort… with a much higher inclination to ally themselves with others for their own protection.”

”I see. How does that affect how their instruction?” Severus asked, but immediately held up his hand to forestall Filius's response as he realised that Malfoy and Potter were unsheathing weapons that he had not noticed the two carrying as they ran. Draco's he quickly recognized as French Quillion long daggers. Potter's by contrast was difficult to identify, seeming -from where he and Filius were seated- to be a long wedge of sorts. When he looked to Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter, the young man and his instructor were moving into a series of stretching exercises. 

”As you can see, the more proactive heirs will receive training to integrate the spells they are learning with weapons and battle training. Young Lords Malfoy and Potter have found or been gifted weapons, which match their frames and fighting styles, where due to the recency of his blood adoption into the Potter Line, young Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter has undergone physical changes that he is slowly becoming accustomed to and will be matched to a weapon when his frame and style settle.”

“And the second group will focus more heavily on defense strategy and teamwork, I presume?” Severus asked, though fairly certain that he was right. 

”Exactly, so the final two?” 

“Purely academic… to pass their O.W.L.S.” Severus commented drolly. 

Laughing lightly, Filius tapped the tip of his nose and nodded in the direction of the boys working with individual trainers, suggesting they move over to watch. 

ブレンキン

“In position, Wick,” Defense Mistress VenomClaw ordered, clicking her teeth in approval as her charge successfully defended against her expelliarmus by plunging his blades into the soil by his feet. “Explain why that worked and why I don’t have your wand.” 

Draco unearthed his daggers with a sharp pull and returned to his defense position, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgement of her approval as he considered the question. 

“The convex twist in the second measure of the cast constrains the command 'expellere' on the target ‘arma’ to active weaponry. By grounding my blades, I effectively nullified the spell by temporarily inactivating them. The same effect applies to my wand as it, being sheathed, does not meet the spells’ focus of active weaponry.” 

“Very good, Stripling,” Defense Mistress VenomClaw complimented before barking an “Expelliarmus” that jerked one of his daggers out of his hand, but not the other. 

”Curious!” She acknowledged, studying the dagger she now held. “Explain.” 

”It was a risk. I did have time to ground them again, but wanted to see if it would work to try and mislead the spell another way. So, I split my attention between the two blades, focusing on this blade thinking about a shield spell, “ Draco lifted the blade by way of explanation, "while gripping the other and trying visualizing an attacking stroke from that blade position.” 

“Risk to gain,” the defense mistress agreed. “An innovative approach and partially successful. With one flaw…” She commented flipping the captured blade into the air with a smirk even as she cast, “Expelliarmus!” To her clear surprise, both his remaining blade and wand stayed in his possession.

“Despite your attempt to distract me,” Draco commented wryly, “I never stopped thinking about my second blade as holding a shield spell and never drew my wand, so the spell didn’t have active weaponry to target. It seemed like a reasonable precaution, given the spell were working on...” 

Defense Mistress VenomClaw’s eyes flashed brightly as she muttered, “clever,” before letting out a pealling call that drew the attention of the other groups and waved them over for a demonstration. When the defense mistress subtly collected wagering chips from the other four defense masters and mistresses, Draco puffed up slightly in pride - realizing that she had actually bet that he would be the defense student with tactics worth demonstrating to the other students - out of all of the other students. His pride (and slightly bashful embarrassment) only increased when she ceded the ‘floor’ to him to explain the tactic instead of doing so herself especially when he remembered that his godfather was among his seemingly impressed audience.

ブレンキン

Watching as the Lords and Ladies of the House of Lords gathered and paired off to return to the castle, Severus was slightly amused when they paused to wait for Lord Potter who was lingering in a discussion with the defense master he had been training with. While it wasn’t uncommon for Lily’s son to act as the spokesperson for the group, particularly where the Headmaster was in one of his more obstructionary moods, or to provide guidance during their estate management sessions, the young man was hardly the de facto leader of the group - a role which surprisingly seemed to be settling in with the somewhat unusual pairing of Lady Bones and Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter, who more frequently seemed to focus on the groups’ plans for pending activities. Lords Longbottom, Potter, Zabini and Lady Armistad-Granger - by contrast - were dedicated to their studies and outside coursework, and Lord Malfoy and Lady Zeller found their amusements in networking with other students and learning the school’s various rounds of gossip. Merlin knew what Lady Frobisher and Lord Finch-Fletchley did to occupy their time, but he suspected that it had little to do with academics. So it was a slight surprise to note them lingering to wait for Lord Potter instead of behaving as children of their age were usually wont to do by running ahead and getting into their own mischief. 

More surprising though, was Lord Potter’s noticeable awareness of their delay and seeming discomfort with it. From the defense master’s stance, however, the discussion did not seem particularly negative or something that Potter would be embarrassed to have overheard, particularly given his numerous previous displays of loyalty to his guardians and demonstrated openness to being critiqued. 

“Filius, would you care to escort our Lords and Ladies to their house?” Severus suggested, offering, “I could use the additional time to catch my breath and escort Lord Potter when his discussion is finished.” 

“Of course, Severus, it would be my pleasure,” Filius answered with a small, if slightly smug, grin. 

ブレンキン

“Thank you, Sir.” Potter finally greeted Severus after the rather long discussion with Defense Master Thornbrow, which had indeed been about about improvements required to what sounded to be an already rigorous comparative summary of muggle myths and magical histories surrounding magical weaponry and the related consequences of magical weaponry falling into muggle hands. 

“Not at all, Wormroot.” Severus answered with a smile, much preferring the young man's goblin nickname to any of the child’s formal titles. “In truth, there was less guile in my claim to need additional time to recover my breath than I am strictly comfortable with, so I hardly begrudge the brief delay, but if I may ask, you seemed rather uncomfortable with your house waiting for your conversation to finish though they did not seem to begrudge it. Is there anything amiss? While your house has - so far - demonstrated laudable self-management skills, I and the other heads of house are … quite experienced in dealing with house matters and would not hesitate to offer our advice, should you ask.” 

”Oh, no Sir, it’s nothing like that. Just, time is a commodity, and I wasn’t really comfortable asking you, Professor Flitwick, and my housemates to squander time that could be spent in more productive pursuits than waiting for me while Defense Master Thornbrow instructed me on the aspects of my latest assignment that I need to pay more in-depth attention to; so, thank you, again, for offering to escort me.” 

“As I said, I put the time to my own good use; I do have another question, though.”

“Sir?”

“You’ve explained how you earned the moniker ‘Wormroot’, but ‘Wick’?” 

“Oh, I should probably leave it to Draco to tell, but I know he wouldn’t mind you knowing. Whether he admits it or not, I think he’s proud of the name, especially because it came from his favorite Defense Instructor, Defense Master Thornbrow. When we went on the shopping trip, I know I mentioned that Draco’d nearly gotten himself in serious trouble a couple of times; well ,one of them was when he threw a knife at Defense Master Thornbrow. So, it would have been understandable if Master Thornbrow wasn't his biggest contributor, but ... Well, after his cart accident, Draco was been placed with another defense instructor while he was recovering, not because Master Thornbrow was mad at him, but Draco, just wouldn't have been able to keep up with that level of training.  
Anyway, a couple of days into the training, Tor’kil, the defense instructor, was criticizing Draco in a public dining area, not even a training in a training room, and Draco was still feeling down and bad from the accident, and you could see he wasn’t taking the comments well when Defense Master Thornbrow comes up, sneers, and tells Tor’kil -publically- that his lack of discernment was a very probable factor holding him back from reaching the rank of defense master and that, if he had any true talent for it, he would recognize that Draco was like a wick: in its resting state, seeming pale, thin, and harmless, but if ignited able to hold a dangerous and destructive flame and burn for hours, and just like that Draco had his nickname... and a favorite defense instructor.” Harry finished with a wry smile, clearly realizing that Severus would understand his amusement. 

“Yes, I can easily see why he would appreciate such a moniker, especially coming from such a formidable instructor. I noticed you seem to be holding your own, rather well with Master Thornbrow, have you trained with him long?”

“Oh, no, just a little over a month, right after that review I was required to attend,” Potter answered his tone lifting in question/and reminder as he mentioned the review. Severus dipped his chin in a brief nod; he remembered the event quite well, as much for the long rambling diatribe he’d been forced to listen to after Potter left to attend it, as for the boy himself leaving. 

“We were already scheduled to start training together when I came here, but after the review, well I guess you probably noticed the change in my schedule.”

”Indeed.” Severus agreed, not asking for further detail, but suspecting he didn’t really need to ask either.

“Well,” Harry paused, rubbing the back of his neck in an unusual expression of embarrassment, “I kind of had … er … well, my... butt handed to me by one of the auditors who took a major dislike to me. I still passed the review, though,” he was quick to assure Severus as if that was what was truly important, “but ... well... that was a lot more to do with some of the Presidents and Defense Masters objecting to his behavior during the review and believing that it wasn’t quite - I don’t know - kosher for him to challenge me when I had only been called there to support another's investments ... and voting in my favor because of it, as it was to any defense I’d given.”

“And your defense training was increased after this.” Severus commented, restating the obvious, before nodding his approval, glad that Potter’s guardians were taking measures to improve his chances of defending himself while in their care.

ブレンキン

As the young lord and his escort passed through the entrance to the school, chatting rather amiably given the circumstances, two sets of furious gazes tracked their progress towards the House of Lord's - their thoughts ominously - if ironically- mirroring each other in their anger towards the growing rapport between the two.


	4. The Philosopher's Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than I intended, but I think it works better where it was cut.  
>   
> 
> 
>  
> 
> _‘No galleonclaw may strike from malice, deceit, greed, or anger.’_  
> 

Sitting back from his desk, Headmaster Dumbledore stared at his creation, pleased with it, but equally irritated that he had been forced to create a second Philosopher's Stone. It had been tiresome enough guiding Flamel in creating the so-called 'first of its kind', for the expedient of having a convenient explanation for his own longevity, without the nuisance of being perceived as the inventor of the immortality solution.

Regrettably, he had been engaged in other plans and preparations when Flamel had unexpectedly become aware of the compulsions Albus had left in place to protect his interests and had been, equally unfortunate to Albus's plans, possessed of a noissome wife having sufficient skills in alchemy and defense to prevent Albus from reaching the couple or any of their relics and holdings again - with the exception of using the Philosopher's Stone (using but not possessing the stone, which magic judged only partially his in return for guiding Flamel to certain concepts, but leaving the foolish man to make the connections and pour his time, resources, and magic into the the stone’s creation). 

Turning it in his fingers, Albus studied the stone's molten gleam as it cooled.

Flawed, though it was, for Albus's unwillingness to pour his magic into the stone, it would be sufficient to mimic a true stone - resonating a promise of immortality to those nearest - who might have the power and sensitivity to detect it. He had already selected the perfect spot for it, with the passage from the third floor coincidentally winding between a certain professor's quarters, office, and the defense classroom. The bait was ready, now it remained to set the trap. 

ブレンキン

“Severus, my boy, I did not expect to see you this evening.”

“Your message did request my presence this evening, Headmaster, and I am certain that you would remember that I have both patrol duties this evening, as you set the schedule, and the ingredient preparation session with the House of Lord's prior.” Severus commented, trying to veil his irritation.

“All too true,” Dumbledore answered, staring at him with an expression that was far too calculating for Severus’s liking, “but you can hardly claim that you have been successful in meeting my other requests, of late, particularly where Mr. Potter and his … acquaintances… are concerned. Hmm?” 

“I have been doing as you requested, Headmaster.” Severus retorted, while reinforcing his occlumency shields. He, decidedly, did not like the direction that he felt this conversation was headed in. 

“Have you? Truly?” The older man’s tone was insultingly thick with doubt. 

“Most certainly, considering that I have taken time out of my schedule and away from the other tasks you have assigned me, to supervise each of that house's extra-curricular tutoring sessions. I have apprised you of the materials discussed. I have even stooped to running along beside the students and their defense instructors to insure that I did not miss any instruction given during those sessions. Also, as you requested, during my own instructional sessions, I have provided only the barest of supplementary information so that they don’t (what was your phrase? progress too far too fast for their own good?), and have graded their work most stringently.” Severus protested, happily letting his rising irritation show. 

“Yes, yes, so you say, but to what end, Severus?" Dumbledore challenged with a seeming air of dissappointment. 

When Severus didn't immediately try to defend himself, the older wizard increased the intensity of his stare. Though Severus couldn't feel any trace of the man trying to slip behind his shields, the sharpness of the old man's gaze concerned Severus as Dumbledore continued, "Despite the many - and tragic - injudicious decisions you have made in your past, I was willing to overlook them and take you into my confidence regard to my concerns about the untoward influences surrounding young Harry. Given your oath to act in his best interests, I had hoped that you would strive to help me remove him from these negative influences. "

Crossing his arms, Severus remained silent as the man who called himself Severus's mentor chastised: "Yet, to date, with all of your presumed skill in the craft of espionage, you have failed to gain the needed confidences of one young, inexperienced boy sufficient to either dissuade him of the illusions they are plying him with or alternately win confessions from him on the unsuitability of their care. I can not help but wonder if you are so preoccupied with Sybill’s small announcement that you are forgetting the oaths you made.” 

Stunned momentarily with the Headmaster’s audacity in implying that the prophecy of his own death should be a ‘small’, almost trivial announcement, to Severus, it took Severus several moments for him to manage his composure. When he finally felt he had regained at least a moderate illusion of calm, he accused, “I can’t deny that I can’t seem to find my own death as trivial as you do, Headmaster, but what you seem to think of as preoccupation on my part is better phrased as an inability to find what does not exist. The reason that I have not been able to dissuade Potter of any illusions is that his guardians have not employed any; the reason that I have not gained any confessions, is that there are not any confessions to be gained. Gringotts’ has taken the unusual step of actually taking care of the children in their care; informing them of their duties, ranks, and responsibilities; and attempting to give them the tools to succeed in them. Surprising, I know, but the truth nonetheless. Now, if that is all, you might remember that I am expected to complete additional brewing before dinner.” 

“No, that is not all, young man!” The Headmaster sat straight, irritation clear in his tone and posture. “I put up with a great deal from you Severus, but your childishness is getting tiresome. I would have thought you would have taken Sybill’s prophecy to heart, My Boy, and relished it.” 

“Relished it?” Severus gasped, stricken at the Headmaster's implied pleasure at this death. 

“Yes, Severus, come now, Severus… Have you put no thought into the words?" 

Severus remained stonily silent, but it didn't keep Dumbledore from pushing, " Think Severus: ‘Atlas' shoulders unburdened...’ Aren’t you tired of the carrying the guilt of your past sins and the high cost that was paid for them? 

‘Un-marked and free, [your] past expiate’… As if your past had never happened? Tell me, Severus, is that not your dearest wish? To make your past as if it had never happened? You are being given an opportunity, Severus, that few men ever have - to atone for the wrongs you have done with the promise that [your] ‘task can be fulfilled’, the boy protected…if you will but rise to it. There is no other way to be freed of your oaths, but you can be, Severus, you can be freed. I would have thought that you, in particular, could see the promise in her words. Ah well, perhaps, I should have made sure you understood the import of it, but I have been busy you see. Your prophecy puts us under a bit of a deadline, you can understand that.” 

“No, actually, I don’t.” 

“Oh, Severus, do try not to be difficult. This prophecy puts us at an advantage. We know you will be able to protect the boy from an incident this year, else your oaths and task would not be fulfilled. We know that Voldemort is attempting to return, it naturally follows that his impendent challenge must be arranged so that it occurs while you are still … available … to protect the boy. Surely, you can see this ramification." 

"There are few possessed of your skills, My Boy, regardless of how you gained them, who could protect the boy so well, and fewer still, who would have such motivation to protect young Harry, as you are sworn to do, Severus. That must be clear even to you. We must arrange the meeting as swiftly as we can, or all could be lost. That is why I have secured this…”

The Headmaster lifted a crimson stone that Severus only just then realized the man had been fiddling with during the entirety of their conversation. Familiar with it only from the diagrams and images he’d seen in a potions journal years earlier, Severus had never thought to see it in real life, despite the Headmaster having assisted in its creation. “Is that?” 

“The Philosopher’s Stone, yes. I explained my concerns to Nicholas, and he has allowed me the use of it to bait a trap for our enemy. I wish for you and several of your colleagues to devise defenses for it. The defenses must sufficiently difficult that he will believe them to be true challenges, but only so difficult as to slow his approach so that you and the boy will have sufficient time to be prepared for the meeting, and they must meet, Severus. We will lose the advantage of the prophecy otherwise.” 

“Where is this trap to be laid?”

“Why at Hogwarts, of course. There is no safer place in the world for Harry, than at Hogwarts." 


	5. Melted Cauldrons and Dragonflies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _‘No galleonclaw will allow its actions, conscience, or path to be tainted, but with eternal vigilance_  
>  _will stay incorruptible, unclouded, and resolute.’_  
> 

“Lord Potter, your vial, please?” Severus requested, leaning over the young man’s brewing station. 

Unsurprisingly, the Girding Potion glowed crystal clear, the shade of a freshly plucked featherwort fern leaf. It’s odor while jarring, due to the doxie eggs, was at least blunted by the proper proportion of crushed dragonfly husks (a much superior alternative to fresh dragonfly thoraxes). 

"Explain your decision to use three unheated dragonfly husks instead of the seven toasted dragonfly torsos specified in the recipe, if you would?” 

“Yes, Potion Master. I learned under Potion Master Gavrok's instruction that the toxicity of doxy eggs is better muted by emptied dragonfly husks than by fresh or aged dragonfly parts. Each full husk is roughly equivalent in mass and properties to two thorax’s after they have been toasted. As the husks were discarded at their maturity during the molting process the husks do not need further aging with heat. I could have used another half of a torso to replace the mass exactly, but that doesn’t take into account the metaphysical properties of a complete and matured husk that would be lost in doing so - weakening the potion’s ability to essentially mimic the recipient’s endurance and ability at the peak of the recipient’s healthy state.” 

“Very well considered, full marks.” Severus responded, lowering the hand holding the vial until he was holding it between them, obscuring the other students' ability to see of his actions as he silently directed the young lord’s gaze to his hand with a glance, opening the finger’s he’d had curled as he took the vial - revealing and presenting a second smaller vial, filled with wisp-white gossamer strands of extracted memories, to the boy. While the young lord’s eyes widened slightly with recognition of what the vial contained, to his credit, Potter did not question the gift nor let his expression slip beyond the slightly widened-eyes as he took both vials and slid them into the fitted tray he used to store completed potions then seamlessly moving to fill and cap an additional four bottles, which were slipped into the tray around and beside the added vial visually completing the set while hiding the anomaly. 

“Your instructor,” Severus began, only slightly stressing the title in light of the young man's clear, if slightly unexpected sense of discretion, “demonstrated laudable insight in including such modifications in your instruction. Traditionally, such modifications are not taught at Hogwarts until sixth and seventh year. It will be interesting to see how such early inclusion of these methods will affect your progress through the course materials. For your next assignment, select one of the potions from the first chapter of the first year course book and write an essay of sufficient length to analyze at least three possible ingredient replacements and subsequent preparation adjustments.”

“Yes, Sir.” The young man agreed, and Severus moved on, hoping that child had picked up enough of Severus's message to pass along the jist of his words to whichever goblin instructor the boy took into his confidence. Severus suspected that it would be the Magister Magia, who the young Lord seemed familiar with, if not openly fond of, but given the context of the memories he had shared, the defense master was an equally likely choice.

“Lady Armistad-Granger,” Severus began, his eyebrow raising at the thickening ochre… glob (there was really no other word for it)... filling and hardening in her cauldron. “This would be an excellent point to use the sample rod. Lord Longbottom would you have three litmus leaves that can be spared to test Lady Armistad-Granger's potion?” 

“Potion Master, Lady Armistad-Granger,” Longbottom acknowledged, handing them a packet of the thin beryl-toned leaves, before returning to his own sampling.

Taking the leaves, one by one, Severus demonstrated how to safely take and store samples from potentially volatile potions for further study, then banished the potion before it ruined the witch's cauldron. 

“Now, where did it go wrong?” Severus questioned, stepping back in amused surprise when the frustrated witch slapped her hand down on the counter with a growled, “I don't know. The arithmancy sequence is a sound application. I know it is.” She protested. “And you agreed in your essay feedback. The Fibonacci sequence is the simplest of the sequences to apply. I adjusted the measure of each ingredient, the rounds of adding ingredients, the stir count … I don't know why it's not working.”

Severus had to fight to hide the smile that seemed so intent on surfacing at the near distraught young witch's almost passionate protest. It was rare to find students who were so driven to understand the art of potions, especially ones who had so little true understanding of their own skill and intuition in the field.

He well understood the muggleborn's drive to excel in her magical studies and 'earn her place’ in their world, having felt the same drive himself in his youth, and felt torn between the impulse to reassure the young women that she was already working at a level respectively above the majority of her year mates, who would not even receive the lecture on combining arithmancy and potions until the latter half of the first semester in their fifth year, and the urge to continue encouraging that drive which had already seen her progressing so far. Possessing such determination and in the studious company of the House of Lords, he had little doubt that Hermione would not only meet the requirements to claim her Ravenclaw inheritance but quite likely challenge his own record of being the youngest student to achieve a potion mastery in several generations. Somewhat surprisingly, he couldn't find it in himself to begrudge her for it.

“Suggestions?” He asked before providing his own. 

“Errr… What about the depth of your stir-stick?” Lady Bones offered, before asking, 'Wouldn't that affect the amounts of different weighted ingredients that get mixed?” 

Nodding, Severus agreed and asked for more suggestions with a cupped-hand, 'gimme' hand gestured. 

“The temperature?” Lord Longbottom asked at the same time as Lord Finch-Fletchley offered, “The stirring angle and length of rests?” 

“Yes, to each.” Severus complimented, “Lady Armistad-Granger, to complete the assignment with full marks, you may submit an addendum noting the necessary adjustments in each of these areas and the summarizing the new process. For your next assignment, treat the adjusted potion as an entirely separate variation and analyze the new potion as you have in previous assignments.” 

“Yes, Sir. Thank you.” 

“You are most welcome, Lady Armistad-Granger.” 

Moving on to Lord Longbottom's station, Severus shook his head as one of the three cauldrons that the young lord had set up started hissing before beginning to melt. 

“The shredded Asphodel?” He questioned. 

“No, Sir. It's the control; I used a quarter measure less of elveswort in each of the cauldrons to ensure melting.” 

“Indeed?” Severus questioned before casting a tempus to measure how long the preparation adjustments to the Asphodel continued to protect the remaining two cauldrons. 

The second cauldron melted three minutes into the continued brewing, but the third cauldron remained stable almost to the end of the brewing process before the hissing began. 

“Impressive! Write it up for full marks. For your next assignment, analyze the step that you believe triggered the final melt and suggest at least three modifications you can use to forestall the occurrence even further.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Moving to each of the other heirs in turn, he assessed the results of their individual assignments, asking for suggestions as appropriate, and set new assignments, then returned to his desk to record their marks and review their essay drafts until the session ended and he released the house to lunch. 

Intending to follow them soon after, Severus could only sigh as he saw the headmaster waiting in the hall outside the door. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to suppress his almost ever-present irritation with the old wizard, Severus missed seeing the headmaster's pleased reaction to his expression. 

“A difficult class, Severus?” Dumbledore asked with superficial sympathy. 

“I don't know, Albus, would you consider it a difficult class in which three cauldrons are melted, two students use dragonfly husks instead of thoraxes, and I have to dedicate our next session to redoing the potions assigned for this session?” Severus snapped in response, sick to his core of the elderly wizard's paranoia toward the unexpected house. 

“Oh dear, that does sound taxing. I knew pushing them too far too fast was a very bad idea. Hopefully, their year-end marks will help convince the board that this self study approach is unsustainable.” 

“I have no doubt their scores will stun the board,” Severus answered dryly. Keeping the dour expression that the headmaster's presence had woken, he prompted, “I presume you haven't come to ask about melted cauldrons, Headmaster?” 

“Quite right, My Boy, quite right. Tell me, have you completed the security measure I requested?” 

Nodding his agreement, Severus moved over the secure potions case that he used to store addictive and narcotic potions. Releasing the wards on the second drawer, he extracted a potions roll and parchment and handed them to the headmaster. 

“I did intend to bring it to your office after class.” Severus grumbled. 

“Yes, well, I have just finished installing the final trap and wish to install our security measures from the innermost layer out. Now, let's see what you have here.” 

Unrolling the scroll, the headmaster read over it quickly before starting to chuckle. 

“Very clever, Severus. So few wizards use logic that this is certain to provide an excellent obstacle.” 

Tapping the roll in his palm, the headmaster ignored Severus's wince at his incautious handling of the potion and poison bottles, seeming to wait for a response from Severus. 

Knowing what was expected of him, Severus was tempted to resist the headmaster's high-handedness, but quickly gave up the thought on realizing that the headmaster was just as likely to wait him out through lunch: “Thank you, Headmaster,” only to have the man wave him off. 

“This has earned it, My Boy. Now, I suggest you get off to lunch, there's not much time before your due in class you know.” The headmaster chastised jovially before heading out of the classroom, only pausing to ask, “Oh, Severus, what chapter did you say that Mr. Potter and his classmates are on?” 

Adopting a put upon expression, Severus sighed tiredly, “presuming that a quarter of their company -at minimum- do not foul their cauldrons? We should be finishing chapter one by the seventh.” 

“Very good.” The headmaster answered, providing one more reminder, as if it were needed, to Severus of why he was effectively lying to the old man, who seemed so eager to ignore the children's best qualities and so driven to force them into roles and houses, literally in Lord Potter's case, that could not have been worse fits. 

Ironically, if Severus weren't as convinced of the veracity of Sybil's latest prophecy, as he was, he very probably would not be so blatantly lying to the headmaster when his lies would be so definitively revealed by the children's proctored, end-of-year exams, much less the assignments which were now being archived with the Potion Masters' Guild - one of the few 'entities’ in the European wizarding world that -as far as Severus knew- the headmaster had little to no influence with. 

With their works archived, even if the headmaster got at the Ministry's Potions proctors, by virtue of identifying the Potter heirs, Lady Armistad-Granger, Lord Longbottom, Lady Bulstrode, and Lord Malfoy as potential apprentices and forwarding 'a verifiable body of work for each potential apprentice’ (usually five to six essays for first through third year students and eight to ten essays for upper years) in which the students demonstrated their familiarity, conversance, and application of concepts and methods ahead of their years, Severus had ensured that the guild would send independent proctors to supervise both their written and practical exams. While Lord Zabini and Ladies Bones and Frobisher were also working on an accelerated level, Severus had refrained from submitting their work for consideration in large part due to the general disinterest in the subject that their written work reflected. Though sufficient academically, their written work would convince no one, with an ounce of discernment, of their suitability, much less interest in a future potions apprenticeship. 

Still, Severus had been superficially honest, with the Headmaster, in as much as the potions assigned for study had been drawn directly from the first chapter, even if the concepts and methods discussed during their Potions sessions had been significantly informed by the previous training of the Gringotts-raised heirs and had been further-developed during the house's 'from-the-ground-up’ study sessions, which preceded each lecture and often included if not outright focused on elements reflecting each students’ particular interests in whatever corollary as could be drawn to their assignments and facilitated by their self-directed study. The result was that not only had the students Potions knowledge and applications quickly exceeded standard first year curriculum, but did so in a way that was entirely unique to each member of the house: from Lady Frobisher's interest in cosmetic potions for fashion effects to Lady Armistad-Granger's arithmancy sequences to Lord Longbottom's interest in floral growing and preparation methods: a fact which would be all the more intriguing to the Potion Masters' Guild, not only for the number of potential candidates but also for the creativity and diversity of their focuses. 

And woe betide the headmaster should he set himself against the guild and those who might one day be numbered among their members. Even the Dark Lord -at the height of his madness- had never been so arrogant. 

ブレンキン

Pressing his back against the wall where the limestone blocks of the Astronomy Tower’s turret joined to the castle wall, Severus set his boot heel on the cap of the nearest limestone block then leaned back with a slow kick up to lay his other foot across the first, crossed at the ankles - ignoring the sheer drop just inches away. Once settled, he dipped his fingers into his vest pocket digging out a tightly rolled fag; pinched off its tip; and cast a weak, wandless incindia to light it with a slow inhale. Savoring the bitter charred taste of the inhalation, Severus held it for two long beats before releasing his breath in a slow whisper of smoke. He so rarely indulged in the vice due to smoking's damaging affect on his senses of taste and smell, senses critical to potion brewing, that when he did indulge, he made the most of it… enjoying as much as he could the nicotine tainted buzz that blunted his thoughts and numbed the edginess that had grown near constant since the blasted headmaster had detailed his plan to lure and battle the Dark Lord in the very heart of the school, using Lily's son as bait. 

In his peripheral vision, he saw the door from the castle open out casting his position even further into the shadows, ... provided whichever amorous couple had come out onto the turrets remained silent, or mostly so, Severus was ready to dismiss the trist, in favor of securing a much-needed period of reflection. It was unlikely that anyone would be inclined to choose his side of the entrance due to the ease of being hit by an opening door unless one knew right where to sit avoid it. 

“If I'm not mistaken Lord Potter, we should be able to find Severus right around this corner.” Filius's voice carried to Severus's position, surprising him into dropping his feet and banishing the cigarette butt as much from who the Charms professor was speaking to as from the fact that the other professor had found him, which was rather foolish really considering that older professor had always had a knack of finding him back when he was a student - even more so than his own head of house. 

Wondering whether Lily's son had been injudicious enough to bring him questions about the memories he'd been given earlier, Severus stood straight and foreboding, in hopes of silencing any questions before their utterance. Even though he firmly trusted Filius, he had not survive as long as he had as a spy by being incautious. 

Subsequently, he was quite surprised to see that it was Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter that Filius was escorting, Elias's child, instead of Lily's. Despite himself, Severus was yet again momentarily stunned by the living proof of his former love's existence. As much as Lily had been the sister of his heart, Elias had held the keys to it, and for the first time it struck him that should the prophecy hold true and his past be truly absolved… perhaps there was some hope he might see his most precious companions again in the afterlife. 

Even through his distraction, Severus was aware of Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter thanking Filius and assuring him that he would call for an elf to escort him down to dinner if Severus was not available and nodded his agreement to escort the boy, offering his own parting greetings to the Charms Master before turning back to the young heir. 

“How may I help you, Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter?” 

“Rishard, please, Potion Master. We are in a moderately non-public setting, after all.” 

“Very well, Rishard. How may I help you?” 

“May I join you?” The boy asked instead of explaining why he had sought Severus out. 

Debating whether or not to press his question, Severus finally nodded, retaking a seat on the limestone turret block, but leaving the wall joint with the back support and better protection from a fall open for the young lord to take, while gesturing with his chin to do so. When Rishard took the spot and settled in, Severus leaned back canting his head slightly further to stare at the stars, content to wait the boy out. Unlike his adopted brother, Rishard had not - to date - seemed prone to blurting comments out under the pressure of silence, but would, given time to compose his thoughts, eventually answer with concise and well considered answers. 

When Rishard finally spoke, however, his words were not at all what Severus had expected, “I apologize for interrupting your smoke break.” 

”It's no matter,” Severus answered, brushing off the boy's keen observation, while making a mental note of the fact that Rishard had likely spent a fair amount of time in the muggleborn's world before being taken into Gringotts’ care as smoking cigarettes was very much a muggle habit and a negative one at that. 

“Still…”

“Why are you here, Rishard?” Severus interrupted, cutting off what sounded like the start of a second apology. 

Lifting his shoulders in a somewhat uncommon gesture for the usually composed heir, Rishard shrugged, “We were concerned.” The 'about you’ went unspoken, but Severus heard the implication nevertheless. 

“We?” Severus asked, instead of broaching the more emotionally fraught question of why… or more precisely why this particular night, months after the prophecy being announced. 

“The whole house really, but my brother in particular,” Rishard answered with another shrug. 

His brother, in particular? Severus paused to think about that for a moment before answering, “while that is deeply appreciated, it is unnecessary…” 

“Harry doesn't ever really discuss it, … … but he remembers _that_ night.” Rishard cut Severus off this time. 

“He what?!?” Severus almost shouted, before catching himself, shocked and horrified. Not needing to ask which night on it's very anniversary. 

“Yes… he … shared that night with me. He remembers you being there: that you held his mother and cried over her, then saw to him - eased his pain, changed his nappies, cast a warming spell, and put him to sleep. “

“I couldn't stay with him,” Severus choked out, the anguish all too fresh, regardless of the decade since, rising up to steal his breath. “I would have if I could, but there were others who wouldn't have understood my presence if I was found there.” 

“Some parts of the memory are vague, but Harry remembers her telling him she loved him, pleading with …” Rishard paused to glance pointedly at Severus’s left arm, before continuing, “the Dark Lord... for Harry’s life and to take her life in Harry's place, which _he_ … somewhat uncharacteristically… refused the first three times she begged it of him, then flashes of green light, his mother falling, another flash of green, and then being alone and in pain, until you came.“ 

Severus’s hand flew of its own volition to cover the hidden mark. How was it possible for her child to bear his presence if he even suspected Severus’s history as a Death Eater, much less treat him with the level of respect that he had shown up to that point - if he knew? Surely, he couldn't! Rishard claimed that Potter had shared the memory with him. Wasn’t it far more likely that it was speculation on Rishard’s part? Accurate, but still speculation? Severus had to be sure, though, “Does Harry… Is … Lord Potter aware?” 

Rishard nodded, before explaining, “Yes, he came to the same conclusion on his own, before the shopping trip. While there are other possible justifications, he did not believe that there were any more likely reasons that factions represented by Dumbledore, The Ministry, and the Former Lord Malfoy would have all accepted you as a suitable representative other than perceiving you as a double or perhaps triple … agent, for lack of a better word. If I remember correctly, he may have even tried to pin you down on the point, during the shopping trip, if somewhat clumsily?” 

Remembering Draco’s somewhat clumsy questioning, that now appeared to have been orchestrated by Lily’s son, Severus answered, “Not directly, and not clumsily… per se, if you consider that I had not realized until this moment that Draco’s questions were orchestrated.” 

“I wouldn’t say ‘orchestrated’ particularly, as much as prompted. Harry wished to ask you, himself, but decided it was wiser to let Draco ask so he could observe your initial reaction to the question.” Rishard supplied. 

Although Rishard’s comment matched what Severus remembered of the outing, and was undoubtedly true, Severus still couldn’t understand it. How could Lily's son, then or now, bear his presence, much less invite it? Surely he must suspect Severus's culpability in her death? How could he stand to show the amount of respect he had, then and now? Severus certainly could not have. 

Seeming to understand his unspoken struggle, Rishard shook his head and smiled with a knowing look that was somehow far too old for the eleven year old’s face. 

“It’s probably better not to try to figure Harry out; we all try, but he still seems to be able to surprise everyone, goblin’s included, and they raised him and probably understand him the best.” Rishard commented wryly before continuing, “Speaking of which, I don’t know if you’re aware, but Gringotts honors - and has raised its wards to honor - Sauin. As, by charter, does the House of Lords, despite the headmaster’s decided aversion to the remembrance. To that note, our House, and Harry and I, personally, would like to invite you to our observation of the rites. We intend to hold a Dumb Supper from shortly after curfew, until midnight, and would ask that, as an adult, you accept the traditional role of news bearer to our Ancestors.” 

Stunned to silence by the invitation, Severus couldn’t immediately answer. Samhain (or Sauin) epitomized a family’s most personal remembrance of their loved ones after death. To be invited to its observation by the children of the very individuals that he, himself, cherished most nearly dragged a sob from him - closing his throat as he fought to keep his composure. 

“I would be hono-” he finally managed, just as the Potters’ house elf popped silently into the space between them, catching hold of Rishard’s shoulder as it explained, “Master Harry is asking that Hibby bring Master Rishard to the Great Hall. Professor Quirell is having said a troll is being let into the dungeons, and Master Harry is stopping the headmaster from sending the students back to their houses in the dungeons and towers and is holding alls of the students in the Great Hall.” 


	6. Blast it All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _‘No galleonclaw will wallow in arrogance, but will_  
>  _\- with humility-_  
>  _master its actions, weaknesses, and fears,_  
>  _as it does its weapons, skills, and knowledge.’_  
> 

Carefully dabbing a thin layer of dittany over the stubborn bite wounds, Severus held his breath waiting for the characteristic green smoke to waft from the wound - dispelling any toxins within to begin healing... only to curse under his breath when none appeared. 

Blast Hagrid for offering up a _XXXXX RESTRICTED !!!!_ creature to the Headmaster’s request for security measures to defend a trap that has no business being anywhere near the students, much less involving students, or a particular student, who -Thank Merlin- had more than enough sense to ignore the headmaster’s goading and stay put - going so far as to ‘lock down’ the Great Hall with the assistance of his housemates - much to the headmaster’s frustration. Blast the Headmaster, too, for that matter!

__

__

Having that creature in the castle could have done more damage than the worst of the Dark Lord’s raids. And who exactly was supposed to be able to figure out, with said monster jumping at him, snapping in his face (and able to get close enough to leave claw marks in the door when he’d slammed it shut despite the supposedly-unbreakable charmed chain) -- that a little bit of music was all it took to quell the beast and keep it from ripping him apart? It wasn’t like he’d been told, and the headmaster should have certainly expected Severus to at least check the trap, if he was supposed to be there to protect Lily’s son from a supposedly destined confrontation. 

Then to have the unmitigated gaul to claim that he’d believed the creature to be safe, because - with it being under a year old, the creature had not had its mane of venomous snakes grown in yet. Was the creature’s snake tail not enough to clue the man in that the beast’s saliva might possibly be even slightly venomous? Just in case the old man had possibly never considered the subject of ceberarian toxicities… despite the fact that ceberarian parts and fluids - like say… saliva… and blood… not to mention urine (that -with the creature penned in room that was only slightly larger than a closet - had a very, very high likelihood of being EVERYWHERE) were all highly toxic - and so, very much of use to fields that involved potion transformations - like oh… Alchemy? Perhaps? Where the creature’s byproducts were of such very high demand that the average potioneer would revel in ecstasy at finding even a quarter dram of saliva on the market at exorbitantly high price. But far be it for Severus to expect the headmaster to be cognizant of such insignificant details - even if they were integral to the man’s field of study, oh, and his body of work or as much as Severus had been able to find of it when the curiosity occasionally struck him to question whether the man had truly ever had the intellect to pursue such a rigorous field of study. It did seem the man had, which only further begged the question: 

Just HOW EXACTLY is it difficult to understand that a XXXXX rated, ministry-restricted, controlled-creature the size of a bloody bear with three heads all bearing muzzles filled with 4-6 inch fangs coated in venomous bile in addition to lion’s claws and a preference for human flesh - iS NOT SAFE?!?! 

Or that such a creature absolutely should not be HOUSED in a SCHOOL full of mostly ill-mannered, barely-cognizant sprogs who can barely be counted on to make it to class prepared on a regular basis, (with very few though notable exceptions), much less display the common sense to NOT ‘visit’ a location they had been warned off of ‘if they did not wish TO DIE a PAINFUL DEATH?!?!?! 

Merlin save them !!! If it had not been for the House of Lords intervention, two full houses of unthinking children would have run right down into the supposed path of the troll with the unthinking blessings of at least one of their heads of house who had been t0o worried about the troll to notice where the Headmaster was sending their children.

In fact, the only good that came out of the event, as far as Severus could see, was Potter’s public insistence that the wards be checked immediately, despite the headmaster’s weak objections and attempts to reassure the children of supporters and antagonists alike of their utter safety… which were clearly wishful thinking - as Lady Armistad-Granger immediately disputed, (according to Filius) quoting directly from Hogwarts: A History pointing out that as a mountain troll not only encroached on the grounds, which had been warded against such creatures since 1447, by Headmaster Cautious Clay, but into the castle itself, which had been similarly warded since the founders establishment of the school - there was clearly something wrong with the wards, before further noting that as the traditional ward-holder for the school, if he had not been able to even recognize the forewarnings from wards of the creature’s presence on the ground there must obviously be something “out of whack” with the wards preventing him from getting a clear ward reading, as she was ‘certain he would have otherwise done his duty to see the castle locked down’.

Forced to concede to her argument, the headmaster had been absolutely peevish since the Gringotts Goblins, as Hogwarts’ primary warders by charter, had not only found numerous ‘inconsistencies’ in the wards, but immediately set about fixing them, which had the fortunate effect - in Severus’s mind - of banishing the very troll that the Headmaster had supposedly ‘dealt with’ when Severus had been checking the cerberus-protected room and the other head of houses were patrolling the castle in search of the beast. Not content with installing only one devastatingly dangerous creature in the castle, the headmaster it turned out, had chosen to ‘deal with’ the lumbering beast by banishing it to another room along the path of the trap - as a security measure. By the time the warders had finished, the troll, cerberus, and devil’s snare plant that had been Pomona’s reluctant contribution to the ‘security measures’... and the former Professor Quirrell had all been ejected from the property.

Though why the last had occurred, still vexed Severus - as he had yet been able to decide which type of creature the professor had possibly been: not a vampire, surely, as Severus had seen the other professor out on the grounds in full daylight; nor a werewolf as the man hadn’t missed any days; nor veela; nor abarimon though the man’s robes on most occasions easily hid his feet they were definitely not backwards; nor kapre, not being sufficiently tall nor bearded, though the man’s odor from the fouled turban could have easily covered the charred tobacco smell that accompanied creatures of that breed. No creature he could think of fit the man’s description, and he had spent more than half the night scanning his old defence books for creatures who could pass as human. … Which had left him in not only exhausted, but in a decidedly peevish mood himself after the headmaster informed Severus that he would have to curtail his time observing the House of Lord’s study and tutoring sessions as it was ‘certainly’ too late in the year to find and hire another defense master in Quirrell’s place, and Severus was the only other staff member credentialed in Defense - not strictly the truth - given Filius’s dual masteries, but Severus had no intention of making things more difficult for the other Professor and Head of House. Particularly when the only way to work the defense courses into their already full schedules had been as seven separate sessions all held on a single day with each class holding the full contingent of the year, and being so large in number that they had to be held in the Great Hall (barring the Seventh year students, who could only continue Defense study after passing their Newts - in preparation for apprenticeships.) 

Still cursing as he flushed the dittany out of the wound, Severus opened the jar of finely powdered bezoar and shook it over the wound until the weeping flesh was covered in an ashy coating, then carefully rebandaged the bite, before cast numbing and cushioning spells to protect his leg from any bumps. Deciding it was the best he could do for the moment, Severus started to prepare for first class of the day, which ironies of ironies, was the third year defense class, to be held immediately before breakfast. 

ブレンキン

“You are here to learn the essential skill of defense.” Severus began, “As with your Potions instruction, you will find that I will not tolerate foolish wand-waving, meaningless house-rivalries, note-passing Mr. Cunningham, nor whispering Miss Louis. I am well aware, having read and graded your assignments that you will likely not understand the critical distinction between reacting to a threat and employing a strategy, so do not expect that many of you will truly grasp the art and skill of defense beyond casting an over-powered bombarda and running; however, if there are any among you who possess the pre-disposition, I can teach you how to hone your mind itself into a weapon, lure your enemies into their own defeat, detect and disable the foulest poisons, and evade even the most powerful attackers… if you will Just. Pay. Attention! Accio Mr. Cunningham’s note.” 

Severus reached up to pluck the note out of the air as it sped toward him, unfolded it slowly, and attempting to imbue his voice with sufficient dire intent to discourage any future occurrences, read the note out loud, “A lot of applesauce if you ask me. Him up there teaching Defense when everybody knows he’s gone for a Burton before the year’s out.” 

It was only natural… but in the moment of silence that followed, Severus felt like the words had briefly stolen the wind from him. Severus should have expected the comment, he knew he should have. During his years instructing at Hogwarts, he had done little to win the meaningless favoritism of students - deeming it more important to adopt a manner that would discourage them from life and limb-endangering pranks in his classroom than to have a dwindling number of buffoons smiling at him whenever they came to class. He was perfectly content to endure their disdain as long as they lived to spew it and graduated knowing the difference between aconite and baby’s breath so as not to poison future offspring the first time they brewed a croup-relief broth. On top of that, it was only natural that lazy, immature minds (of which Mr. Cunningham had always been an exemplary case) regularly sought to look for any way they could find to get out of learning, and the prophecy had been so very public.

Clinching the note in his fist, Severus took a deep breath, silently reminding himself that outside of the headmaster and the Dark Lord, he had earned the right not to suffer fools and did not need to tolerate cheek from anyone. Even the darkest of the Dark Lord’s inner circle had learned not test Severus’s patience. “Let me assure you, Mr. Cunningham: No one is asking you. Although, I’m sure the headmaster is just waiting to hear your opinion on all of his staffing decisions; feel free to head off and let him know. I’m certain he’s waiting with bated breath. You may be laboring under the delusion that you are capable enough of protecting yourself, with all of two years of magical education under your belt, that you do not need the advice of someone who may or may not be gone before the end of the school year, but let me assure you, that you will find yourself the easiest of prey for any who would want to take advantage of you, and I can assure you there are many who will.” 

“Bollocks,” the boy muttered, derisive in his embarrassment. “Yer’ just all puffed up aren’t you? A right --” 

Before Severus could call the boy on his cheek; however, the sharp slap of a hand on one of the lunch tables drew their attention to a presence he had not been expecting to see. Lord Rishard Fisher-Watson-Potter stood up from the table he had been apparently sitting at with Lady Bones, Lord Malfoy, and Lady Zeller (an unexpected buffer between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin House). The boy’s expression was quite royally-pissed as he glared at Cunningham, and the young lord’s tone was impressively cold when he spoke:

“I really cannot decide if you are as dim as you seem to be or if you are a stellar actor whose talents are wasted here, in which case, it’s not your turn on stage, so do kindly belt up. If you don’t think that there are predators out there who will give you no more thought than a pub snack that they toss down with a pint, you might want ask yourself just why Azkaban was built in the first place or why some fear Knockturn Alley? Or maybe, you have just come to Hogwarts so well trained that you don’t even need this class?” Rishard asked mockingly, ignoring the calming hand that Lady Bones had laid on his arm. 

As stunned by the unexpected defense as he was by the four’s presence in the third year class, Severus scanned the room confirming a sudden suspicion: the remaining heirs and heiresses from the House of Lords were divided into two other small groups sitting as buffers between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff and the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw houses, noticeable now - if staunch and silent. 

His attention drawn back to the confrontation by gasps from the other students, Severus could only shake his head as Rishard turned to him, explaining, “Sir, I am honor-bound to accept his challenge, but would be amenable to limiting it to sparring if I may set the boundaries.” 

Blast Cunningham, too! The sprog was clearly more of a dolt than he’d even realized, having apparently challenged a goblin-raised child to a duel, much less an heir to a noble house, much less one whom the idiot had so very little knowledge of, outside of the meals and few classes that the House of Lords attended with their yearmates. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus sighed, “Set the terms, date, and time, Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter, I will inform the Headmaster and Heads of House. Mr. Cunningham, 200 points from Hufflepuff, be assured that I will send Professor Sprout an itemized list of point deductions, so that she may assign appropriate detentions, as there’s no guarantee that I’ll be around long enough to supervise them…” he finished snidely before turning to cast a levitation spell to distribute the quizzes he had written to get a baseline of their year’s defense knowledge. 

Turning back to the blessedly-silent class, Severus ordered, “Clear your tables. Quills and ink only.” 


	7. Comeuppance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _‘No galleonclaw shall dishonor its weapon - shedding innocent blood;_  
>  _any who knowingly do so,_  
>  _Shed also their honor, claws, ranks, clan, and Nation.’_  
> 

A wry smirk kept fighting its way to the surface as Severus watched Headmaster Dumbledore forcing himself to pretend joviality while he welcomed the parents and relatives and guests of the House of Lords. 

Far from ‘officiating’ the minor “bit of comeuppance” for the young “so-called Lord” (as the headmaster had described Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter during a staff meeting (a few days after the class in which the Lord had been challenged to the duel), Dumbledore had been essentially, if reluctantly, relegated to -at best- a slightly helpful guest at the display or -at worst- a begrudging usher escorting unwanted - at least by him- guests to the dais --- a dais the children had arranged without the (notably missing) throne-like-chair the Headmaster had become so very accustomed to having at the high table. 

The headmaster’s expression had barely cleared of his frustration at seen the seating arrangements when the guests had begun to appear including the former-Lady Malfoy (now Dowager Black), who was currently chatting amiably with Lady Armistad-Granger’s parents; then the school’s Board of Governors; a contingent of the Wizengamot; followed unexpectedly - at least on the headmaster’s part - by an assembly of goblins including not only a handful of Gringotts’ human employees, but also the students’ defense masters, the Magister Magia, and most notably, Gringotts’ President Ragn’rok (who had reportedly been promoted from the rank of British Regional President to the European Division Adjunct President, pending future review); and lastly, the Minister of Magic and several ‘proteges’, which surprisingly included the Former Lord Malfoy.

Despite the headmaster’s earlier (and clearly uninformed) assurances that so much seating would hardly be necessary for the students who had elected to remain during the winter holidays, as the guests stepped out of the Great Hall’s floo to be escorted by varying pairs of the heirs and heiresses to dias seating that the House of Lords had spent the morning setting up, the students’ preparations were proven more than necessary. Severus suspected the headmaster’s assurances and desire to limit the seating had been primarily spawned precisely to limit the number of students electing to watch - out of the unusually large number of students who had decided to stay over. 

To Severus, it had hardly seemed surprising when, given the unusual announcement of a duel to be held during the break, the contingent of students who had elected to remain during the break doubled if not tripled their usual numbers who elected to stay over yule holidays. On seeing the lists of students electing to stay, Albus had repeatedly tried to quash the event, without success. His primary viable reason for closing the school over the Yule break (to update the wards) had entirely fallen through - given that the recent re-warding had eliminated the need to make any updates which had presumably been handled previously during the breaks (despite the actual state of the wards when they were checked - casting doubt on any likelihood that Albus had updated the wards at all in recent years). Additionally, having already owled the parents the annual reminder that students were welcome to stay during the holiday season to attend Hogwarts more-secular (read muggle) festivities, the old wizard had preemptively removed any of the other excuses he might have used to send home the unexpected (and on the Headmaster’s part undesired) students who had elected to take him up on the offer - including almost the entire Slytherin House who had subsequently managed individually and in groups to find a wide variety of reasons to visit his offices almost daily - a phenomenon that he found unaccountably touching, when he allowed himself to think on it. 

With the guests’ dais placed where the staff dining table had been, the remaining students tables lining the walls to either side of a wide duelling platform angled diagonally across the room to offer better visibility, and the House of Lords Table seeming a champions table even before the duel was ‘fought’- the end result gave the Great Hall quite the resemblance to the closing events of a youth duelling league competition similar to the league that Filius had gotten Severus invited to during the summer following his third year. The winnings from that competition -and competitions of the three following summers- had enabled Severus to afford his living expenses during his Potions’ apprenticeship… as well as going a great distance to restoring the confidence that had been eaten away by enduring three years of being the schools favorite outcast and whipping boy. 

Seated amongst the other heads of house and professors on the dias, Severus found himself unexpectedly piqued by what was developing, not only in terms of having an entirely unprofessional and admittedly immature desire to watch Cunningham being publicly shown up - as he had no doubt would happen - having observed the House of Lords defense tutorials, but also in watching the House of Lords so deftly running circles around the headmaster’s whims and plans in an entirely innocent-seeming manner that was almost too artful to have been anything but carefully planned … or at least carefully and thoroughly advised (considering the children’s frequent interaction with their mentors). 

It might simply be a result of having his perceptions being skewed by years of viewing daily interactions through the pensieve-perspective of a spy, but since the beginning of the school year, Severus had more and more frequently felt as if he was seeing the House of Lords actions coming into direct conflict with the headmasters decisions and actions. And … in almost every instance, the children had been solidly ‘in the right’ compared to the headmaster. Severus, himself, couldn’t decide whether the headmaster’s scheming was becoming more and more obvious or whether the methods he was almost haphazardly applying were becoming less and less rational in regard to the stated outcomes the old man seemed to expect.

More often than not, recently, the headmaster had seemed to be caught flat-footed by the children’s simple and generally effective use of logic and obvious facts, which was an irony, in and of itself, considering how the headmaster himself had so recently commented on how infrequently wizards used logic. While it was a point which Severus truly could not argue, having himself felt that the art of logic and critical thinking were not regularly used by the majority of the wizarding populace, before this year, Severus had rarely catalogued the headmaster among that unthinking majority; watching now, though, he had to wonder why he had not. 

The order of the guests arrivals gave a perfect example of how the House of Lords suspiciously-innocent manipulations left the headmaster repeatedly trailing after them: First, in not expecting the mass of students who had wanted to stay to watch what the headmaster had -at first- wanted to permit under his supervision… Then, strongly objecting to when he realized that the date and time directly preceded the monthly Board of Governors meeting by and that the Board had been invited to attend the challenge by the House... Then wanting, but failing to deny the challenge, when permission had already been given, not only by himself, and the heads of house, but also by Cunningham’s parents and Rishard’s guardians. 

The arrival of the Gringotts’ contingent had also clearly come as a surprise to the man as well - a clearly unwelcome surprise, at that- based on the headmaster's frozen expression as they came through. Regardless, having already welcomed the human parents and guardians of the other heirs and heiresses, it was a surprise one which headmaster could neither dispute nor any more than he could refuse the Wizengamot contingent who had arrived at the invitation of Madam Bones after her niece's invitation had been elf-delivered during a planning session. The Minister's contingent had been the only one not directly or indirectly invited, as the Minister was complaining somewhat heatedly to the Headmaster, quite coincidentally keeping the Headmaster's attention off of the Heirs and Heiresses who had been - in the last few moments receiving their distinctive house robes from surreptitious elves and donning them before joining the rest of their house in a diagonal line that crossed the duelling platform. 

The Minister was still whinging at the Headmaster when Lady Armistad-Granger stepped out to face the tables on the North side of the hall and Lord Zabini to the South side - raising their wands to send small puffball-like blooms of translucent sparks high in the air over the platform. 

"If everyone will take their seats…" Lady Armistad-Granger's voice lifted to everyone's hearing even as her gaze tracked noticeably to where the Headmaster and Minister were standing. Stepping out in opposite directions from the between Lady Armistad-Granger and Lord Zabini, Lady Bones and Lord Potter held up two scrolls, which they introduced as copies of _‘The Charter of the House of Lords Addendum detailing Duelling and the Rational Settling of Matters Involving a Sitting Lord or Lady of the House_ which they read - in practiced synchronicity: 

     “In answer to the prophecies of the 912 Summer Assizes, We, the Founders of Hogwarts - in name being Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin - declare that we reserve these investments and instructions to be forever honored and upheld by the students appointees to the House of Lords and binding unto Hogwarts faculty, staff, and administration - that these students may root out division, inequity, and unaddressed-corruption of values that we, as the founders of Hogwarts, hold crucial to the furtherance of magical education:
     First - No sitting Lord nor Lady of the House of Lords shall use the station which they have been afforded to address any matter of personal insult nor grievances between the lord or ladies’ family and the family or person of any other student. 
     Second - Neither shall any sitting Lord nor Lady of the House of Lords condone or conspire within or without of the House of Lords to do so.
     Third - Any disputes, which arise involving a sitting Lord or Lady of the House of Lords must be addressed publicly in the presence of faculty and representation from each of the founder’s houses. 
     Fourth - No sitting Lord nor Lady may refuse or alternately take advantage of a publically-issued challenge - provided that the performance of this challenge will not contradict any other assignments, addendums, or amendments to the Charter of the House of Lords.
     Fifth, once made and accepted the challenge shall be conducted by and in accordance with the following principles: 

     At the initiation of the challenge’s performance, the offense for which the challenge has been issued must be reported and the report verified by any witnesses who may have been present to assign the first offense. If no witnesses were present, the verification will be done either by the public performance of a truth charm or application of a truth potion. 
    The challenged/issuer of the first offense may elect to give explanation for the offense and apologize (even where the response and challenge may have given greater offense than the instance that initiated it) or announce him or her - self willing to accept judgement by challenge and take his or her place no more or less than fifteen paces from the center of the duelling space.
    The challenger, once the report of the offense has been given, and the first offense assigned, will then be given the option of withdrawing the challenge or continuing. If the challenger would withdraw the challenge, he or she may only do so by issuing an immediate public apology and renouncement of the previous attitude or position. Otherwise, the challenger will take his or her place opposite the challenged. 
    On the event that both challenged and challenger have taken position, the matter must proceed to three-cast rounds or constant fire until either severe hit or disarming occurs as chosen by challenger.
    The challenged has the right to choose the location, time, circumstances, duration, and classification of type of casting to be used - providing that they are not contradicted by and do not contradict any of the other mandates herein or elsewhere in the Charter of the House of Lords.
    No false-casting, casting into the assembly, or intentional mis-targeting a cast is permitted. The challenger is to be abjured from issuing challenge without receiving offense, and likewise the challenged bears the duty of acknowledging offense if made and offering apology.
    If either party is affected severely enough to cause agitation to the nerves, impairmpairment breathing or consciousness, alternately require renervation, which will all be considered disabled states, or otherwise result in the party being disarmed, that party may elect to recant prior statement and make apology to end the challenge; however, as the exchange of spells is strictly prohibited in the course of acceptable behavior, no apology can be received once shots have been exchanged - without first negotiation for an act of atonement from the party of the disabled or disarmed being started.
     Once negotiation for atonement has been initiated, the challenge may be suspended until either the negotiating parties reach concord ending the challenge or impasse resuming the challenge with the disabled or disarmed party penalized to receive two casts from the other’s wand while permitted only defensive casting, before the formerly disabled/disarmed party may resume casting in offense. 
     In this manner, the challenge will continue until apology is issued or either party is disabled or disarmed three times, after which the disabled party will be bound -without the relief of negotiation - to the act of atonement decided upon by the other - so long as the act of atonement does not contradict the Charters of both the House of Lords and Hogwarts - independent of any addendums added under a sitting headmaster. 

As soon as they had finished announcing the challenge rules, the heirs and heiresses split with the ladies departing the platform’s East-facing steps and (bar Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter who remained) the lords departing down the West-facing steps. Standing center of the platform, the young lord announced: 

“I fully acknowledge having given offense by debating Cunningham’s intelligence after the student insultingly impugned the value of Defense-Master Snape’s instruction in Defense Against the Dark Arts -on the basis of an as yet unmet prophecy- without having given the Professor the opportunity to begin the lecture, and further requested in coarse and mocking terms that Cunningham cease interrupting the class … and ask that these actions be verified by the witnesses present." 

"Affirmed," Severus answered immediately, ignoring the headmaster's veneer of disappointment. Though why the headmaster should have expected otherwise was a mystery; outside of his 'war service', Severus had ever been scrupulously honest in every visible and discernable manner - as much to cast doubt on any possibility of him being a potential source of betrayal as to leave potential opponents unprepared for deceptions on his part - should he need to employ them. For while he preferred to eschew trickery and deception, his experience and sheer survival attested to the fact that he could count himself skilled in their use and we'll able to discern when such tactics were the best resort. It was a truth the headmaster should have been well aware of, but given the old wizard's recent tendency to take Severus' comments about the heirs and heiresses at face value, there was no telling what the man was thinking. 

As if to confirm the futility of such a lie, just under two dozen student voices (of third years who'd elected to stay over break) rose to provide further affirmation of the young lord's statement. 

Clearly ready to jump on any grounds to get control of the situation, the headmaster practically sprang to his feet, announcing: "it takes great courage to admit one's wrong-doing, my boy: now that you have, I'm sure that Young Mr. Cunningham will accept your apology perhaps with a proviso that you serve a month's detention." 

Once again overstepping his bounds, the headmaster could not have looked more foolish, in Severus's opinion, than he did almost stumbling to a stop as both Cunningham and Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter spoke at once: 

"Not likely," Cunningham sneered. 

"I will not be apologizing," Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter refused. 

"Now, surely you must realize that classroom manag--" the headmaster began sternly. 

"No, I wasn’t trying to interfere with classroom management," Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter denied, "A charge has been laid upon the members of my house to stand against inequity. Both in other classes and outside of class, Cunningham has readily expressed his opinions of Professor Snape and his house - without censure from yourself, other instructors, or staff, allowing him to further express these prejudices without speaking against them would have been neglecting this charge. You could not have missed, also, that I and the members of my house are honor bound to accept such challenges. I will not apologize for standing true to the expectations of the House of Lords.” 

“My Boy, old charters and addendums not withstanding…” the headmaster, his ire barely masked, attempted to argue before being cut off again - this time by Cunningham. 

“Your barking if you think I’d accept the berk’s apology, Headmaster. A freaking puffed-up firstie racketing around and thinking he can mouth off to his betters. House of Lords my arse… Had to do a month’s detention with Professor Sprout cause of him, and I’m gonna make sure he feels it.” Cunningham retorted, not seeming to realize the announcing the detention he’d received as a result of his comments - from the commonly-recognized least-stringent instructor at Hogwarts only further impugned his cause as much as his stated desire for revenge for the punishment only sullied his character for the fact. 

“Argent!” Mr. Cunningham’s frustrated and flustered father chastised, clearly only having heard the full story just at that moment, much less having to stand by as the boy actively and publically cast a blemish on their family’s perceived honor by continuing to invoke a duel under the circumstances. Severus had no doubt that the man was now clearly regretting the decision he’d made to permit the duel moving forward - regardless of the misinformation he’d received from his son's reports and the prejudices that he had likely taught the child. 

“As I said, I will not be apologizing,” the young lord intervened drawing the attention back to himself as he strode from the center of the stage to the appointed position fifteen paces from the center. 

“I sure as hell won’t be.” Cunningham answered, rushing to the stage, proving once again to have an intellect as substantial as candy floss. 

“I am willing to accept judgement by challenge.” Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter continued, “and set the duration to three-cast rounds of spells third year and below, bar cutting, burning, and living transfiguration spells. Agreed?” 

“Why set it to third year spells? Trying to show off, or are you frightened I’ll throw something worse at you?” Cunningham sneered. 

“The dueling rules require agreement to the duration and classification of spells cast before we can start,” the young lord reiterated the addendum’s specification with unexpected patience. 

“Yeah, sure. I can wipe the floor with you with just what we’ve learned in class.” Cunningham taunted lifting his wand like he was ready to cast even before he was in position. 

“Argent,” Mr. Cunningham senior growled again, this time loud enough for the boy to hear. When the sprog turned to his irritated parent, the man gestured for the boy to take his place and sketched a formal bow with a hand gesture, before sighing with aggravation as the boy flushed with embarrassment but took an additional few seconds to figure out what his father was trying to command. 

Once in place, Cunningham grimaced as Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter bowed to him and shot a look back to father, who was now nodding… his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to cope with his son’s clear ineptitude. Severus couldn’t blame him, though: who would challenge another to a duel, without even knowing what they entailed? Even when he’d been a muggle-raised, halfblood, first-year - Severus had known better. 

As the challenged, the young lord should have had the right to the first of the three casts, but -not unexpectedly (to any who’d recognized that instigator had called a duel without knowing how it progressed)- Cunningham immediately attacked casting a ‘flipendo’ that Severus was not surprised to see Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter easily side-step before casting in return. 

“Expelliarmus.” 

Having apparently been targeted strictly to Cunningham’s wand, the spell did not throw the other boy off his feet; it did, however, quite effectively deliver the challenger’s wand to the young lord’s grip. Cunningham was disarmed. 

“You have been disarmed.” Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter announced, holding the wand high for the audience’s confirmation before inquiring, “Do you concede?” 

“You’re mad. That was just a lucky shot. Gimme my wand.” Cunningham crossed the platform, again disregarding commonplace duelling etiquette much less the higher standards that the audience now knew the House of Lords were held to as he jerked his wand out of the young lord’s hand. 

Once again showing laudable patience, and more grace than was required of duellers once volleys were begun, the young lord waited for Cunningham to return to his position, face him, and take position before immediately casting. 

”Spongify.” 

Cunningham’s eyes widened as his wand wilted under his gaze - swaying back and forth under as he unsuccessfully attempted to cast multiple ‘finite’s to end the softening charm. The derisive snickering that ran through the student audience as several students made the typical crude comparisons to Cunningham’s … endowments...did not help the increasingly humiliated boy’s attempts to restore his wand any more than the realization that his so-called ‘freaking-puffed-up-first-year’ opponent wasn’t taking advantage of his predicament as he should have expected the boy to do, when he was allowed two free casts from disarming him the first time. 

“Damn you. I’ll take the hit. You disarmed me again, but I’m not giving in; not to a freaking first-year.” Cunningham finally growl holding his wand out as he demanded the concession from the young lord. 

Despite himself, Severus couldn’t help sympathize if only very, very, very slightly with the boy’s humiliation, remembering all too well what it felt like to be so publicly embarrassed. He couldn’t find it within himself to be too very sympathetic, though, for unlike his own experiences, Cunningham had chased his misfortune like a niffler on a knut and refused to recognize the portents of the duel’s impending outcome. Willful blindness had never been a quality that Severus easily tolerated. 

When Severus turned his attention back to the duelling platform it was to watch as Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter turned briefly on his heels taking a half-shuffle step from the tarantallegra that Severus suspected the young lord had allowed to hit before casting a finite, regaining a solid footing, and casting back two spells with barely a breath between them. 

“Colloshoo...Carpe Retractum,” Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter barely uttered, his expression practically unchanging as his first spell stuck Cunningham’s shoes to the duelling platform and his second cast a blue-gold cord of light that attached itself to Cunningham’s wand and hung there for a brief moment silent moment as Cunning watched dumbfounded, not even thinking of return casting before the wand was jerked from his grasp when Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter whipped his wand and the cord of light backward. Within a breath, the retracting cord landed the wand in the young lord’s palm as effectively as his earlier expelliarmus had. 

Holding the wand up between them, as he raised an eyebrow, clearly waited for Cunningham’s acknowledgment of the third disarming-strike. 

“Go boil your head.” Cunningham answered, petulantly, “You just got lucky. There’s no way I’m apologizing to a bloody, boot-licker like you.” 

For some reason that Severus couldn’t understand, the audience of parents and teachers around him seemed shocked by the boy’s continued bad attitude - most grumbling at the poor showing but some even gasping at his bad language. It seemed inconceivable that they’d even credited the possibility that being thoroughly shown up would somehow improve the boy’s truculent manner. Even the little sprog’s father seemed unable to credit the boy’s poor grace when he should have known the brat best. 

"Your apology is worthless," Lord Potter interrupted, joining his brother on the duelling platform- his tone remarkably similar to what Severus remembered of Lily's when she was in a high pique - usually from insulting comment made by her odious sister. "And, seeing that my brother disarmed you three times, whether you apologise or not, you agreed to the terms stated and will be bound -without the relief of negotiation - to perform act of atonement decided upon as decided by my brother." 

"I'll not!" Cunningham sneered. 

"You will!" His father answered finally finding his voice, "You will, You Idiot Boy, or your find yourself pulled and finishing the year from home and self-studying for your owls from there on. I'll not have you dragging our family name through the mud with such idiocy. You mark my words." 

"But Da…" his father's glare caused Cunningham to cut his words short as he turned sullenly back to the two brothers, waiting for one to announce whatever tedious, humiliating task he'd have to perform to 'atone' for his jabs at the greasy git - fully expecting something disgusting like mopping floors or cleaning toilets. 

"On the premise that there is no greater folly than action without knowledge," Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter began, prompting a noticeably surprised stir in the Goblin contingent, "I think there is merit in having you get to know the members of the house you're so prejudiced against before you start to act on those prejudices. To atone for the comments made inside and outside of class, for the remainder of the year, you will take all three meals at the Slytherin house table excepting those instances when you are excused from doing so at the discretion of one of the four heads of house." 

"What?!?" Cunningham jerked up his head in shock. That hadn't been what he'd expected at all. 

Severus could barely contain his amusement at the clever punishment and atonement, and noticed that he wasn't the only head of house who was having trouble doing so as both Pomona and Filius had raised their hands to their lips subtly trying to hide their smirks. Minerva was slightly more successful covering her amusement at the boy's predicament, electing to simply press her lips together. While Cunningham would - eventually - get to know his snakes and possibly even come to see them as individuals instead of weak-minded puppets of the dark, there was clearly no question in any of their minds that he would quickly regret saying anything to or about their house, much less their head of house. Regardless of whatever else might have been said about his sharp-tongued snakes, if there was one skill that they possessed in abundance, it was the ability to weaponize even the most casual of social interactions. 

Noticing the boy on stage paling at something that one of the other heirs had said, and the boy's father turning just as pale a few feet away, Severus turned his attention review his memory of what he had picked up usinghis peripheral senses, smiling as he reached a memory of Lord Potter declaring that as Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter and Heir to the Ancient and Noble Houses Peverell and Black, he considered the matter resolved, and thereby inconsequential to the concerns of the great houses - effectively reminding both father and son that by challenging a named heir of an Ancient and Noble House to a duel - a challenge against a minor child at that - regardless of the equally young age of the family Lord - could have opened the Cunningham family to censure and even retaliation if either Potters were injured - from not only any remaining branches of the Potter, Black, and Peverell families, but their formal allies as well, which in the case of the Black family, in particular, included alliances that no doubt was leaving the father breathless at the thought. 

Sitting as close as he was to the Wizengamot contingent, Severus could practically feel them sit up and take notice - even as the headmaster stiffened in his chair, his hand slapping against the chair arm in an unexpected show of irritation. Before Severus could turn to study the old wizard more carefully, though, a familiar jerking movement in his peripheral vision caught Severus's attention as the ochre yellow of a poorly cast and dangerously mangled hex headed toward the boy's on the platform, leaving Severus barely the time to call out a warning before it reached them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the duel. While I tried not to make Rishard seem too talented/over-powered for a presumed-to-be-first-year, considering that he's the living embodiment of the Voldemort's soul-shard created at the height of the Dark Lord's power, I don't think it's too much to say that Argent Cunningham didn't have a chance.
> 
> Not to mention, if Papa (and little snot) Cunningham were about to wet themselves at the prospect of retribution from Black allies potentially taking offense, how do you suppose they would have reacted to the prospect of Rishard's origin identity?


	8. Wayward Sons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _‘No galleonclaw may set the interests of self, clan, leader, or branch, above that of the Nation’_  
> 

Even as Severus was drawing his wand to cast a shield between the targeted heirs and the oncoming sickly-gleaming ochre-colored hex, Lord Potter’s hand dropped to his hip, instead of to the sleeve where Severus had expected. Jerking a previously unnoticed bronze-wedge hanging away hip which Severus had seen only briefly before during the young lord’s defense sessions. With the jerk snapping the threads it appeared to be hanging from, the young lord flicked his wrist forward in a gesture that didn’t make any sense to Severus - not falling in the recognizable wand patterns he was familiar with - until a quarter-breath later as the wedge spread into a distinctive bronze-bladed fan, whose tines glowed with unfamiliar sigils and runes as the boy swept it into the path of the hex catching the ochre stream of magic before curling it back on itself in a spiraling movement. 

“Kakon-de o tsu ka-mu,” Lord Potter’s voice, though quiet, carried through the great hall, though his meaning did not, as he seemed to cast ~~?~~ something in guttural tones of gobbledygook. 

His wand and mind frozen in shock, Severus was stunned as the bronze fan’s spiral collected the stream of ochre into a swirling orb of light - attesting to the ‘light-nature’ of whatever spell Potter had cast even before the Headmaster could protest its use, as Severus read from the shocked old wizard’s expression that the old man deeply wanted to do. Protest its use... only only to find himself blocked by the fact that the use of goblin and elven magics underlying the wards and upkeep of Hogwarts had long been sanctioned regardless of their source. 

The uproar that had been forestalled by the amazing sight of the boy capturing the hex, suddenly took hold - with the heads of house, goblin contingent, Madam Bones and the Ministry’s contingent jumping to their feet and rushing toward the duelling platform. Deciding that the goblins were more than capable of thwarting any problematic reaction from the Minister and his contingent, Severus decided to focus on determining who had cast the hex in the first place over the successful and nearly passive defense against the hex that the other’s had elected to address. As he left the dias, though, it was quickly apparent that he was not alone in that decision as several of the goblin defense masters and employees split off from the rest of the goblin contingent heading the same direction as he was - name to the dumbfounded red-head sitting surrounded by a circle of housemates whose wands were all firmly directed at him. 

Ronald Weasley. 

Spluttering as he tried to demand that the other students stop pointing their wands at him, the youngest Weasley male practically squawked as his eldest brother, a Gringott’s employed-curse breaker jerked the wavering wand out of his hand. 

“What in Merlin’s name do you think you were doing?!?!?” William Wallace Weasley demanded in a near shout. “How could you think of casting on a fellow student? A Gringotts’ ward no less? A Lord of an Ancient and Noble house if those weren’t enough? Are you completely barking mad? What is wrong with you? Seriously, answer me: WHAT. IS. WRONG. WITH. YOU ?!? There is no conceivable way you could have thought they were attacking you or anyone around you or were in any way a threat to you or any of the other students, so please explain: WHAT. IS. WRONG. WITH. YOU ?!?” 

Giving no doubt to whether he shared his mother’s temperament, William’s diatribe continued almost viciously as he questioned his brother’s sanity, intelligence, loyalty to family, school, house values, and common morality with such ferocity that the other goblins and goblin employees were content to stand back watching the usually mild-mannered curse breaker verbally eviscerate his youngest sibling. Severus himself held back from intervening until the boy’s paling-complexion became so bloodless that Severus suspected the child might actually pass out in moments. 

“Mr. Weasley, if you intend to compel an answer from Ronald, you might wish to stagger the rate of your questioning to give him sufficient time to provide an answer.” Severus interjected, attempting to keep the amusement out of his tone. He knew he shouldn’t be quite so amused by one student attacking another, but with no injuries, and the culprit clearly identified and due to receive ample correction if not outright punishment from his older sibling and likely parents, Severus couldn’t find it in himself not to find at least slight amusement in the event. Not only had the attack served to highlight the truculent redhead’s animosity in a venue that the Headmaster could not suppress acknowledgement of, it further established the Potter heirs’ blamelessness in the inexplicable grudge that the boy had held toward the heirs and Lady Armistad-Granger seemingly from the first day. 

Severus and Minerva had individually and jointly spoken to the headmaster many times throughout the past semester about the rash gryffindor who continually vacillated between attempting -unsuccessfully- to talk the Potters, Lady Armistad-Granger, and Lord Longbottom into requesting a re-sort - and disparaging Lord Fisher-Watson-Potter, Lord Zabini, and Lord Malfoy and claiming that they were corrupting the other lords and ladies of the House of Lords and keeping them from ‘proper houses’. Time and time again, however, their concerns turned complaints had fallen on deaf ears, with the headmaster assuring them that the boy was simply trying to make friends and overturning the related points losses and detentions every time they were assigned - to the point that by November, both he and Minerva had stopped wasting their time going to the headmaster, choosing instead to document the incidents and enter them into the schools records, which the headmaster rarely bothered with, so that they could be submitted to the Board of Governors meeting when the opportunity arose. 

Neither had hoped to have the opportunity to bring the subject up during the pending meeting scheduled shortly after the duel, but with the brat’s public attack on the heirs occurring just before the meeting, there was no question now but that they would be able to raise the child’s disciplinary and poor academic records. It probably wouldn’t be enough to get the boy expelled, but should certainly be enough to get him put on notice and restricted from approaching the members of the House of Lords without their permission. Now if only something could be done to curtail Hagrid and the headmaster’s attempts to interfere with the house. 

Turning away from the Weasley interrogation, Severus watched as Lord Potter handed the encapsulated hex off to Madam Bones as evidence should he wish to press charges against Ronald at a later date. As they finished up formalities, under the Potters’ guardians’ watchful gazes, Severus found himself drawn to listen to Lord Potter’s explanation of the intriguing fan. 

While he had observed the young heir training with the fan, apparently compacted into its wedge shape, the heir had to-date not used it in its opened/expanded form, nor in the manner that they had witnessed - at least not during any of the defense practices that Severus had witnessed, so he was doubly intrigued with the device and listened closely as Lord Potter explained. 

“I am Lord Harrison James Evan Potter, born of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, Heir to the Ancient and Noble Houses Peverell and Black, raised guardianship of Gringotts’ British Regional Branches. The tessen that I carry is named Manwë Vastra christened in the blood of air-demon Rak’marisasha, in the two hundred and twelfth year of the Sixth Age, and has defended its possessors with honor and accord. It was gifted to me on the event of my first formal Annual Review.”

The formulaic nature of his introduction left none in the audience in any doubt that he had learned the formula at the knees of his guardians, and would quite likely be just as discreet and secretive about the qualities and properties of the fan as the goblins, which of course did not in the slightest prevent anyone from questioning the boy. 

“What does it do?” Of course, the Minister of Magic would be the first to ask, “Are you entirely sure its safe?” 

“With training? I will be able to disrupt the flow of curses, compulsions, and malicious magics. At the moment, I can delay and if the hex is weak enough catch and wrap minor or unfocused hexes in protective, light magic until they can be turned over to my guardians or proper authorities.” Lord Potter prevaricated, offering a comforting explanation that seemed to satisfy the minister and most of the other curious watchers, but that Severus was quite certain did not come close to explaining the full properties of the fan - not that he would give any hint of his suspicion. The young lords had more than ample reasons to hold back the full scope of their skills and assets. Far be it for him to give any indication otherwise… a decision that it seemed to Severus that Madam Bones and Filius seemed to share from their knowing if repressed smiles. 

“Well, then, that’s quite all right then. A very reasonable precaution, given certain animosities that might still exist. A very reasonable precaution.” The Minister commented, most likely to hear himself speak. 

“Amelia, considering that the duel was brought to an equitable resolution, and Lord Potter has quite kindly elected not to press charges against the Wiggins boy, I think I’ll be off. Heir Foley-Winston-Potter, my commendations to you. That was very well handled, and I think that your mild choice of atonements - though somewhat longer than necessary- certainly isn’t anything that one could reasonably complain about, especially considering that you are a fosterling of such an Ancient and Noble house. How did that come about by the way? It is quite curious. Yes, quite curious.” The Minister questioned, rampantly trampling over any sense of common decency by asking such a private question in a public forum. 

“Oh, well,” Lord Potter began, answering for his brother, in a tone that sounded falsely sheepish to Severus’s ear, “Rishard came into Gringotts’ guardianship after his mother died. A line-elimination curse.” Lord Potter offered, provoking several gasps from the assembled, before he continued, “Despite being in Gringotts’ care, Rishard would not have survived without magical support. As the sole heir of three houses, I had the ability to offer him a blood adoption as my direct heir and brother.” 

While there were clearly elements of truth in the explanation, Severus was sure of that, some instinct told him that much like his fan’s history and usage, Rishard’s tale was not fully the truth, or at least not the complete truth even if it did explain how the heretofore unknown -to Severus- child of his late companion had ended up both in Gringotts’ care and Potter’s protection. 

“How horrible! I don’t know why those curses have not been declared unforgivable long ago,” the Minister dissembled, even though many in the assembled well understood that the primary reason the Ministry and Wizengamot had refrained from labeling the curse as unforgivable was that it remained one of the strongest curses in their arsenal against the prospect of treason against the British Wizarding World - though so heavily regulated that even Voldemort had not been deemed to warrant its use during the last wizarding war. It had been a very near thing, but with the close interrelations between so many pureblood families, Severus suspected that they had ultimately refrained out of fear that the Dark Lord - having emerged from unknown origins might have an equally unknown number of blood relations among their number. 

“I have no idea either, but it has given me a brother; that, I cannot regret.” Lord Potter answered discreetly, but seeming, Severus thought, to enjoy the slightly abashed expression that swept over his brother’s face before returning to its customary child’s version of stoicism. 

“Well said, Lord Potter.” The Minister answered, clapping the boy on the shoulder before turning back to Madam Bones. “Amelia, will I see you later?” 

“I can’t say for certain, Minister.” Madam Bones replied, her tone leaving no question in the minds of many that if she could find any possible way to avoid a later meeting, she would certainly do so. 

“Good, Good. A pleasant day to all! Gentlemen, if you will.” The Minister commented, gesturing for the attendants who had arrived with him to make their ways to the floo. While some - namely Lucius - seemed to want to stall, having no further legitimate reason to stay, they were quickly ushered away by the Headmaster, who seemed only too happy to see them leave. 

Following their departure, Filius began to gather the members of the Board of Governors to escort them to the conference room while the visiting parents and guardians paused to visit with their respective children. It was rather difficult to hold back a smirk when Mr. Cunningham practically pulled his son over to where the Potters were speaking with their guardians to thank the heirs deeming the matter resolved and inconsequential, as well as leveling such a mild atonement. 

~~~ _Undoubtedly biting their tongues to keep from casting any further aspersions on the house that Cunningham would now be dining with._ ~~~ 

Severus was making his way over to the boys, to offer his own commendations on both the effectively leveled duel and the apt handling of Weasley’s unprovoked assault, when Minerva caught his elbow. 

“Severus, Filius and I thought that it might be wise to get the Board Meeting begun before the Headmaster has a chance to falsify some defense for the boy, as you know he’ll want to do. I’ve already retrieved Mr. Weasley’s records, and requested memories from Lord Longbottom, Lady Armistad-Granger, and Madam Pince.” 

~~~ Well, Minerva wasn’t leaving matters half done, lion cub or no. ~~~ 

“Very well, I'll join you momentarily.” Severus agreed, explaining, "we should probably invite certain interested guests," and sharing a knowing look with Minerva before he stepped away - stepping almost directly into a conversation between the Coronae Magister and Lord Potter. 

“... Misha’s master has been ... retrieved and is currently in the care of Healer Mensaetcorpus. His conditi…” the Magister broke off as Severus interrupted them. 

“I apologise for disrupting your conversation,” Severus commented immediately, “but I wished to commend you and your brother on your performances, and inform you that the Board of Directors’ meeting will likely commence ahead of schedule. Considering what occurred with Mr. Weasley, you and your guardians might wish to attend as there is a strong possibility that it will be addressed during the meeting.” 

“Thank you, Defense Master Snape,” the Coronae Magister intoned as both boys offered a polite bow of acknowledgement for the compliments. “We will certainly attend. Where will it be held? There are a few matters I would like to discuss with my charges before we attend.” 

After giving the boys instruction on how to reach the conference room used for the Board of Governors’ meetings, Severus turned - intending to join Minerva when he noticed something odd in the headmaster’s stance as he finished escorting the departing Ministry contingent to the floo. The headmaster’s wand was in hand, though partially obscured by the long sleeves of his robe.

~~~ 'What conceivable reason could there be for the headmaster to have his wand out?' ~~~

ブレンキン

Albus was in a truly foul mood by the end of the Board of Governors meeting, though Minerva couldn’t truly blame him. The Board had overridden nearly everything that he had attempted to get passed on top of suspending Ronald Weasley for the remainder of the school year and requiring that the boy see a mind-healer as there was some question in several minds about the boy’s stability when he chose to openly assault a Lord from an Ancient and Noble house, on top of what Mr. Tonks described as ‘blatant stalking’ once the child’s troublesome record of behavior was read into the meeting’s minutes. They had called the Headmaster to task for the shoddy state of the wards after one of the visiting goblins had been present and able to give a full report on the neglect and many inadequacies of the wards that had been allowed to persist before Gringotts’ recent update, put him on notice that a second such occurrence would see his immediate dismissal, and having been quite impressed by the House of Lords performances and handling of the duel and duelling preparations, summarily denied the headmaster’s request to disband the house - on the basis of reports from Minerva, Filius, and Pomona, when Severus who undoubtedly had the most to report on their performances could not be found to speak. 

While it irked her that the younger wizard had missed the board meeting for some unknown reason, it seemed like a fitting punishment that he also missed the pleasure of seeing several of the issues that they had all jointly wished to see corrected set to rights - even if it was against the headmasters wishes to see the changes he’d been so resistant to making. Severus would have enjoyed it, though, she was sure. Not only for some vindication of the many frustrations they had discussed recently discussed during their regular review of the House of Lords’ academic progress, but also due in no small part to the fact that it was incontestable that the young wizard simply enjoyed being contentious if not outright vexing. 

No doubt, Albus would be just as contentious and vexing as Severus (at his worst) in the days to come, but for the benefits they had just managed to secure, his sometimes surprising childishness would be worth enduring. 

Just as the board was gathering their things to leave, Albus stiffened violently before jumping to his feet and rushing from the room, calling out behind him: “Minerva, Filius, the third floor. Pomona, please try again to find Severus. He may be needed.” 

ブレンキン

The poor, dear boy. The dear, dear man. Minerva barely suppressed the sobs that tried to wrack her frame as they stared down at the so-very-still body of their young colleague. 

Filius was knelt by the younger man, casting and casting - one detection spell after another in hopes of detecting some glimmer of life or magic to support Poppy’s attempts to revive the man when she arrived. Each cast returned a negative response though until Filius finally ceased casting and let his small hand fall to Severus’s unmoving chest. 

The boy was dead. Their boy. The scrappy barely-cared for child who had come to them from a sadly broken home only to grow up into skilled if caustic young wizard and later, an incredibly talented and unarguably cantankerous colleague - before their very eyes. Oh, the boy had made missteps along the way- some that many would find unforgivable, but not Minerva. She had long ago come to terms with how their own neglect and dismissal of the troubles the young man had faced during his home-life and schooling had lead him down the dangerous and tragic path he’d walked, and though they had never spoken of it, she was certain that Filius had as well. The bonds that had developed between the two older professors and their younger colleague had become too strong to doubt that understanding. 

Despite herself, she couldn’t help but wonder whether the headmaster had ever come to understand his own role in Severus’s life and some would say downfall. She wasn’t certain he had, and looking over to the older wizard, while he seemed to be wearing a mask of appropriate sadness, to Minerva that solemness didn’t reach the headmaster’s eyes … or heart. 

He seemed untouched by Severus’s passing, and when he asked for a few moments alone with Severus, Merlin help her, Minerva wanted to refuse. Did Filius? She couldn’t tell, though the smaller professor had stiffened slightly and his small fist briefly clutched a handful of the ever-proper vest that Severus had consistently worn under his robes regardless of the outside temperature. Oh, how she would miss that boy. 

Finally deciding that she truly didn’t have any grounds to refuse the headmaster’s request, Minerva nodded at the same time as Filius let go of Severus’s vest and stood. Reluctant to leave the young man, it took several moments before they could finally walk out of the room that the headmaster had set up to protect the Philosopher’s stone. Ignoring the Mirror of Erised as they did, certain of what they would see if they looked into its depths, and not ready to see even a ghostly image of him so soon, neither spoke though Minerva’s hand dropped and Filius’s hand rose to offer comfort as they left the room - hand grasping hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not quite certain what to say, except there's more to come.


	9. In Whom We Would Trust All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _‘No galleonclaw may pursue enmity nor deliver vengeance or offense on behalf of self, clan, branch, or division.’_  
> 

Staring down at Severus’s corpse, Albus held his silence as Minerva and Filius left the room. Surveying his work, with an air of unfelt solemnity, Albus was hard pressed not to smirk or give any other sign of his satisfaction until he felt the two passing well beyond the room’s additional wards. 

As he knelt down beside his former employee and pawn, Albus ran his fingers through the man’s dark, and -surprisingly not greasy- hair, before using the locks to lift the man’s head as he spoke. 

“So like [his] mother: dark-haired as she and promising to be like her in mood, also; for he was not merry and spoke little though he [no doubt] learned to speak early and ever seemed older than his years. [So like] Turin … slow to forget injustices or mockery, but the fire of his father [Hurin] was also in him, and he could be sudden and fierce. Yet ... quick to pity, and the hurts or sadness of living things might bring him to [well hidden] tears. (LOTR: The Children of Hurin, The Childhood of Turin).” Albus sighed, looking up into Mirror of Erised as he continued. 

“You would have been proud of your many times great-grandson, Hurin. In so many ways, he was a true descendant of the House of Hador. Inherently loyal, courageous - in his own way, foolishly trusting once you’d secured his loyalty, and a vicious warrior when set against an enemy. Yes. A true son of Hador.” 

Albus’s solemn expression transformed into a derisive sneer as he lifted a hand to dispell the mirror effect he had cast across the so-called mirror literally ages ago. As the silver filmlike reflection vanished, Albus used the grip he had in Severus’s hair to shake the boy’s head, smiling into the horrified gaze of his ancient enemy. 

“Can you see him, Hurin? Do you see the last begotten heir of your bloodline? This pathetic creature your blood spawned? He would have gladly and unfailingly tried to inflict your revenge - if he could have ever conceived of its want, if he’d even known who he was, but that knowledge is long lost. I’ve seen to that. Neither the Maiar nor Valar nor their pathetic descendents even remember their own natures. The elven hordes who once refused my rule have been reduced to mere servants fading away as their magic depletes. The Ents have been all but destroyed, while the giants, the spawn of ungoliant, and my dark armies lie in wait for but one more death… or perhaps two… given the blood adoption, it merits taking minor precautions. That’s nothing you need to worry about, though. No, Huron, morn instead your misbegotten spawn.” 

“Morgoth,” rasped a bound and visibly tortured man in the mirror’s distant view. 

“That’s a name I haven’t heard in many years, My Boy. I go by a very different name now, not that you have any need for that knowledge.” Albus sneered into the mirror, before looking away as he felt Poppy entering the room on the third floor and beginning to descend. 

"Ah, well, I must cut our talk short." Albus commented, dropping Severus's head to land cruelly on the cold stone floor and smiling as he spoke one last time to his ancient enemy, before rising and wiping the ancient image from the screen - returning it to its century's long mirror like sheen. 

“So ends the Hurinion. The so-called ‘Princes’ of Hador linger no more. I would have the heralds march through the streets wailing and crying that the line of Turin had come to an end, but alas! Who is there left to remember the name of your house or weep for your thrice-vexed line.” 

"Albus?" the mediwitch's voice called down the passage as she approached. 

"In here, Poppy," Albus answered wiping the satisfied expression from his face and the pleasure that wanted to rise in his voice from his tone. 

She was so distracted as she entered the room, her hand flying to her mouth with a gasp of Severus, that he was certain she wouldn't have noticed any indiscretion on his part in her shock. 

~~~ Why even Severus, as cunning and paranoid as the boy had been, was not cunning enough to recognize the need to raise his wand against Albus when the time came… though he did offer a passing challenge when he realized that Albus had cast a silent imperius.~~~ 

    Occlumency never had been a perfect defense against the imperius, nor had Albus's instruction in the art been designed to give Severus the skills to defend against Albus himself - only to give him the illusion of the ability to defend himself against the so-called Dark Lord.
    In hindsight, he wished he'd taken longer to savor Severus's horrified expression as the spell took effect. The utter disbelief and betrayal in his near black eyes had been entrancing, but sadly, with so many 'guests' lingering, there had been no time. 
    Instead, publicly requesting Severus's assistance in preparing for the board meeting, while mentally compelling him through the imperius to publicly -and rudely- refuse the request - claiming the need to make preparations of his own preparations, Albus ensured that everyone present saw them parting ways. 
     No one could have discerned, of course, the silent commands he gave the imperiused wizard - to go to the room that had so recently housed the cerberus, pass through the gauntlet, drink the vial to let him pass through to the final challenge, and wait for him in the room that housed the Mirror of Erised. 
     Nor could they have realized that Albus -on receiving Severus's contribution to the protections for the stone - had tainted the very bottles which would have allowed Quirnius, Tom, and one or both of the Potter heirs to move forward (if they had cooperated with his plans) - drinking the potions... By lacing them with a delayed action poison keyed to the mirror… well, a delayed-action but swift-acting poison to be more precise… ensuring the potion master's own demise with Albus's presence completely accounted for in the Board of Governors' meeting. 
     He had even been convinced at one point during the meeting that he'd felt one if not two others enter the guantlet and had been prepared to capitulate to all of the Board's ludicrous decisions just so he could go down to the trap and feast on the sight of the Potters' corpses joining the potion master's. He had been so certain it was they who had followed Severus down. 

Regrettably, he hadn't been able to prevent the recent ward upgrade and the sniveling orc horde had completely fouled the wards he'd set over the rooms, so that he wouldn't know anything for certain until he could make a show of going down with convenient witnesses to discover one or more of their "tragic" deaths… oh how he wished there had been more.to find. 

     Still, it had been quite satisfying to finally get rid of Hurin's spawn, and he could content himself to wait a little longer yet to divest himself of the other two. Particularly considering that he wasn't entirely certain that he had gotten rid of the long distant spawn of Tulkas. It had taken so long arranging the dilution of the irksome lineage: centuries of the selective elimination of breedable descendents until down to the two remaining lines: one line, the Riddles descended to the rank of magicless humans and the other remaining line, the Gaunts reduced to inbred, unstable, near-squibs who would have died off in a generation or less given their temperament, when what should happen but the two lines inexplicably found each other and 'mixed' spawning an - unfortunately strong- if unstable bastard child reviving the line. 
     With that wild-card in the mix and fixated on at least one if not both of the Potter heirs they still held a modicum of usefulness to warrant keeping around, at least until Tom was dealt with. After that, well, after that, he suspected he would find their demise quite satisfying. 

ブレンキン

Rishard Fisher-Watson-Potter found it difficult to split his attention between following the conversation between Harry and the Coronae Magister Magia and watching his former follower joining the headmaster by the floo. There was something… troubling about the way the two wizards came together, something difficult to immediately pinpoint, but unnatural enough to hold Rishard’s attention almost completely… some element of the potion master’s posture or bearing or walk. A waver in his voice as he refused the headmaster’s request for assistance… something false about the claim that he needed to gather his own papers for the meeting. Something almost awkward about the way the normally almost predatory stalk of the Professor turned diffident as he turned away from the man and walked toward the but turned to go up instead of down to his office in the dungeons.

“Rishard?” Harry’s concerned voice cut through Rishard’s fixated study of the professor. 

“Something’s wrong.” Rishard murmured. 

“What is it?” 

“Se...Professor Snape. He … something just changed in his manner. I did not see any one cast it, but … a compulsion, I think, a contact potion, perhaps, though I believe he would have noticed skin contact. Something with a delayed reaction, possibly.” Rishard answered, shifting his gaze back to where the headmaster who’d also been following the Professor’s departure smiled a brief unpleasant smile before he continued, "but the headmaster's doing, I'm sure of it." 

Harry shared a glance with the Coronae Magister Magia, who nodded his agreement to some unspoken discussion between them before ordering, "Go. Follow your professor, protect him if possible. We will draw the board and Headmaster's attention, and delay the discussion of the pawn's unprovoked attack." 

Rishard froze for half a second with the realization that since their ‘separation’ an unexpected rapport and secrets had developed between the Coronae Magister and his adopted-brother. If it weren’t for a warning instinct telling him that they were running out of time to intervene in whatever was affecting his former-follower and current-professor, whose well-being had been a frequent focus of Rishard’s recent idle thoughts, Rishard might have stopped to press for more information. It was almost a surprise to Rishard to realise that he wasn’t concerned about whether he could trust Harry or the Goblins, and he had to forcefully push that thought aside as Severus reached the point that his progress up the stairwell would soon be taking him out of their sight. 

Startling as a hand caught his arm, Rishard turned to glance at his brother, who urged him to ‘come on’ in low undertones. When he glanced back, Severus had passed from their sight, and the satisfied-seeming headmaster was turning away from watching the potions master toward his office. 

“Go!” The Coronae Magister urged, “Investments should not be neglected.” 

With his brother beside him, Rishard hurried to follow the potion master up the stairwell. Unable to see or hear the potions master on the stairs, they paused at the second floor to cast a point me spell, then again on the entrance to the third floor. Unlike at the lower floor’s entrance, when they reached the third floor, the point me spell directed them away from the stairwell onto the floor that the headmaster had forbidden students to traverse unless they had wished to suffer a painful demise. 

Sharing a grim look at the confirmation of a definite threat to the inexplicably influenced potion master, Rishard and Harry drew their wands as they stepped onto the floor. 

Down the hall, a door standing opened identified the potion master’s path as surely as any point-me spell. The open trap door was equally telling. Beyond that, an emptied room that appeared to be the platform for a terraced ledge dropping to a floor below it showed recent signs in the settled dust of another person’s passage. Following in their Professor’s path, Rishard could tell that he was not the only one set on edge by the lack of challenges or obstacles in their path. 

Passing from the room, following the solitary set of footprints in the dusty corridor, Rishard cast detection spells to reveal any unseen doors or threats while his brother cast location spells… confirming as the walls began to drip murky-algea green water, that they were heading beneath the edges of the Black lake and deeper as the corridor itself was slanting further downward. 

The unbroken silence and gloom of the long narrow corridor only made their entrance into a brilliantly lit chamber with a ceiling arching high above - all the more jarring in conjunction with the potion masters continued absence. From almost full silence, the flapping sounds of a sizeable flock of small, delicate looking, jewel-encrusted winged keys, sweeping around the room almost assaulted their hearing and caused them further delays as they stopped to cast more detection spells - in case threats were hidden in the sudden over-abundance of light and sound. A heavy wooden door on the opposite side of the room drew their attention as they dismissed the detection spells null reports. The challenge was all too apparent. 

One of the winged keys would be needed too open the door. The size of the flock of keys, their fluttering swirling paths, and the collection of brooms in the chamber - all attested to the conclusion that the correct key would need to be chased and would undoubtedly be spell resistant.

"We're taking too long," Rishard hissed, the unfamiliar and unexpected weight of worry an almost physical pressure constricting his chest.

Neither brother even considered the time wasting chase, turning instead to study the door. Without question, it would be warded against unlocking charms, disruption, and concussion spells… but would it have been armed against others?

"The sort-to-purpose incantation?" Harry suggested to Rishard's quick approval and relief. The vault-sorting incantation had the additional benefit of being an area-focused spell, instead of needing to be cast on either the door- even if it was more complicated and slightly more difficult to pronounce - at least for Rishard, who'd had less individual exposure to pronouncing the gutteral language of goblins, though he'd naturally gained the same fluency while residing in Harry .

"Do it," Rishard urged, not wanting to waste time by mangling the pronunciation.

"Shu - Rru- I," Harry incanted, defining the span of the room as the focus of the spell. "Na-Rra … Beh." He continued setting the target to anonymous objects of like purpose, then finally almost growled, "KaeRru!" commanding magic to sort the room's contents to their matched objects, with a sharp slash directing the preferred sorting destination to the door, before warning, "move!"

The spell took immediate effect, dragging the flock of keys from the air with a violent jerk that embedded all but one into the door about eye level with a burst of solid woody-thunks while the other magically directed key pierced the keyhole with a loud clang - to be rapidly locked in place with a quickly cast sticking charm.

Grabbing the door handle and key, as he turned them simultaneously, Rishard threw the door open and jerked his brother's arm to pulled him through - not wanting to take the chance of the door closing between them.

The next chamber almost glowed black for its sudden absence of light, prompting another round of ultimately wasted detection spells before they moved forward and lights flared again, showing them to be on the very edge off a larger then life sized chess board that met room's border wall-to-wall on the remaining three sides of the chessboard. come on as you walk into it.

Basalt chessmen armed with gleaming iron swords, pikes, and jousting lances turned imposing expressionless faces to them - acknowledging their presence while steel shod basalt stallions stamped their hooves impatiently… living wizarding chess pieces that would clearly have to be conquered to move forward.

Cursing virulently sight, Rishard turned to his brother exasperation and dread momentarily eclipsing his long years of experience. They should have caught up to Severus well before now, unless - as an instructor he had been able to side-step the challenges completely. 

"We don't have the time for this," he barked. 

"No we don't. … what alternatives do we have? It's bound to be protected against manipulation, transfiguration, blasting hexes and other attacks… attacks… frontal attacks… Hibby!"

Rishard almost fell back on his heels at Harry's demand for the house elf's presence. Why hadn't they thought of that earlier… surely the board wouldn't have been warded against house elves.

"... Can you get us past it?" Harry was already asking.

Turning to study magics invisible to human eyes, the elf's expression answered before his slow, regretful shake of the head. "No, it be's too strong for Hibby."

~~~ Merlin be damned! They didn't have time for this!~~~

"It's too strong for you?" Harry question, accepting the elf's nod much too calmly for Rishard's taste. With every minute they wasted Severus was walking further and further into a possibly untenable situation.

"But what about the house's cohort? Could you do it working together?"

~~~ Wait! … What?!?... ~~~

"Yes, working together, we will be's able to takes you boths past the … the test, but maybe nots much farther. " 

"Get us past that, we'll have to figure it out from there." Harry ordered easily, nodding as Hibby summoned the other elves with a snap.

Almost before Rishard knew what was happening, small hands were catching each arm, and with a 'shift' that felt absolutely nothing like apparation, he was carried from the entrance at one end of the board to and through the door at the other side of the board. As the small hands released him, the elves fell back, two even dropping to their knees from the expended energy. There was no question in his mind of asking them to go further. It would be of no use. 

Thankfully, the room beyond was bare of everything but a staggeringly obnoxious odor that would have most likely stopped them in their tracks if the situation weren't so dire. 

The chamber that followed was startlingly clean and fresh - almost sterile by comparison - aided in part by flames that surged ahead of and behind them as they entered the room - quickly moving away from the rapidly growing flames that threatened to consume the oxygen in the room as well as anything or anyone that attempted to go through either door. In the center of the room, sat an colourful ornately-tiled table that glowed with the flickering reflections of the purple flame behind and the ebony flames ahead. In its own ominous way, it was rather beautiful. On the table sat seven differently shaped bottles and a roll of parchment, with only one - the smallest- not perfectly placed in a ruler-straight line. It's cork was slightly ajar appearing as if it had been drunk from before..

"Welcome to my parlor, whispered the spider to the fly," Rishard murmered, holding his hand out to keep his brother back from the table as he again cast the detection spells. 

Most wizards would have likely stopped casting the detection spells by that point, with the previous spells having been unneeded, and following what would have surely been a tiring batttle on the chess board… especially with the magical flames, the glimmering table, and a potioner's logic puzzle to distract them. It was the perfect time to introduce an element that spells might otherwise detect. Casting over each of the bottles individually, Rishard was far from surprised to find the scroll and all but one of the bottles free from taint while the last… the smallest … and likely most tempting bottle - having the appearance of having been used before - held inexorable, unstoppable death in the form of runespoor's blood. Unaffected by bezoars and so rarely used in any field but alchemy that even the most experimental and research oriented potion masters were unlikely to keep the antidote on hand. It was almost the perfect poison, barring only that it didn't work immediately- giving its target time to realize the poisoning had occurred and seek assistance.

He hardly even need to read the scroll to be sure, but when he did, it confirmed the test's duplicity: 

>   
>  Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,
> 
> Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,
> 
> One among us seven will let you move ahead,
> 
> Another will transport the drinker back instead,
> 
> Two among our number hold only nettle wine,
> 
> Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.
> 
> Choose, unless it is your wish to stay here forevermore,
> 
> To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:
> 
> First, however slyly the poison tries to hide
> 
> You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side;
> 
> Second, different are those who stand at either end,
> 
> But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;
> 
> Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,
> 
> Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
> 
> Fourth, the second left and the second on the right
> 
> Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

The logical puzzle's solution - promising to let a person through the black flame was the smallest - fatally-poisioned - bottle.

Reading the results from his expression, Harry didn't bother with anything on the table, but turned instead to study the black flames… thankfully not stopping to offer false condolences like Severus would have been more cunning than to have fallen for a trick like that. In normal circumstances, it would be true, but under a compulsion or possibly a memory charm? There was a chance that Severus had avoided the tests all together, but Rishard couldn't erase the halting skidding footsteps that he'd seen in the first two rooms or the brief notice that the winged key had already had a crumpled wing before he'd grabbed the key and knob to unlock the door… and that the smallest bottle had been uncorked at least once and unevenly replaced. Could Severus have recognized so quickly that he'd been poisoned? Would he have recognized runespoor's blood? 

Studying the black flames distractedly as he debated the possibility back and forth. Rishard could barely keep from pacing until Harry interrupted his internal Severus focused and external flame-oriented debate as his brother ended the sticking charm that had been holding his tessen in place at his hip and turned to the flames. 

"You have an idea?" 

"It may not work." 

"Doing nothing is certain to not work." Rishard retorted. 

Harry conceded the point with a dip of his chin, though his eyes never left flames.. 

"Be ready to jump through. I don't know how long I can divert the flames." Harry explained. 

"Understood," Rishard moved to just barely to left of the door and crouched - ready to fling himself forward as Harry again used the incantation he'd used to stop Weasley's spell- only this time to capture the magical energy of the flames. The second the flames began to move, turning down under the bronze Fan's influence, Rishard threw himself forward, diving over the flame, tucking his head to roll to a stop, before turning on his heel to see whether Harry had released the black flames or was going to try to join him. 

Seeming to take inspiration from Rishard's roll, Harry paused to curl himself, chest over knees, before pushing his hands down forcing the flames to the floor beneath the tessen as he rolled himself over it - landing on his seat and pulling his hands and the tessen free as he came full circle. 

"Good job," Rishard complimented before turning on his heels and freezing. The words, "Let's go," equally frozen on his lips. 

Barely six feet in front of them, Professor Snape was seated in front of a large weathered mirror. They had finally caught up with him. 

They were far too late. 

The ungainly way the professor sat, almost a tangle of limbs angling at odd degrees like freshly minted swords stacked together - told its own story, even before his bleary gaze landed on them and filled with anguish. 

"Why?" he questioned, in a rasping slur - his voice as painfilled as his gaze. 

"You're under some form of compulsion," Rishard replied. "You could have been hurt." 

A bitter laugh echoed through the chamber, and Severus's head swung a little too wide when he shook his head. 

"Po-oiso-ned," Severus agreed grimly certain. "Now… all are…" He pronounced drawing a wobbly circle with his index finger that included the three of them before dropping to a small waistbelt, below his vest and fumbling with a flap, before he managed to bring out a small bezoar and hold it out with violently shaking fingers. 

"Brea-k an-d sh-are," he ordered, unaware of the thin trickle of saliva-diluted blood that accompanied his words. 

"Not full-ant… ant-o..dote… bu-- t both yo-ung… and sm -- all-r do-ses. Take!" 

Reaching out, Rishard closed his hand around the bezoar, clasping the potion master's fingers shut as he tried to explain, "It's alright, we didn't use the potion." 

"Take!" Severus insisted, either having not heard or not understood. 

"No." Harry interrupted, taking the professor's free hand and folding most of his fingers down to press the tips of his index and middle fingers into a pulse point along his throat. 

"It's okay," Harry coaxed, "We weren't poisoned; my pulse is normal, isn't it?" 

"Not Po-oiso-ned?" Severus questioned, hope reviving him slightly even as his spine seemed to give up holding him upright. 

"No, not poisoned." Rishard agreed solemnly. "We didn't use the potion." 

He didn't try to ask the professor what they could do to save him, even though he was only supposed to be eleven and theoretically shouldn't have known about rare or exotic poisons. Nor did Harry, though, so perhaps Severus wouldn't notice. 

In any event, there was nothing for them to to do. 

"Th- thn-k Mrliiin." Severus slurred, squeezing their fingers weakly. "Cudnt liv th slf if you t… two.. hrt. You..two...too… imp-ortnt… spc-ul… not be hrt." 

The weak, maudlin chuckle that Severus gave as he'd said he wouldn't have been able to live with himself if they'd been hurt told them both that he knew as well as they that he was dying. 

"...Lisss-n… im...imp-ortnt… pro-- tec-ted... house… whle hse. .. not just Grngtts… Potions Guild," he strained to say the last carefully. "Have… Magister… check cult. … p...ssions been giv'n… for… mation's in th-re. Imp-ortnt!" He finished emphatically before falling back with gasp. 

"We will," Harry promised equally emphatic. "We will. I promise. Thank you." 

"Goo… goo … bo..y..as. goo.. hou.. se… mer-ry… mer-ry met. Gl… gla- d to- tea- ch. imp-ortnt… you… know... 

"Thank you, " Rishard answered thanking him for the months he'd taught them…. his attempts and desire to protect them… and the years of service before the earlier prophecy divided their interests. 

With a sigh, their professor accepted Rishard's gratitude, relaxing as his head rolled back. 

Gripping Severus's hand to his chest, Rishard could feel his brother's eyes on him, seeing his unguarded emotions… and the brimming edge of tears that he'd only just realized as he blinked to clear his burning eyes, but said nothing… what was there to say? 

His brother, did have something to say, however, though not the condolences to himself or their professor that Rishard had expected. 

"Shibou-yuki, ku-dahsai." Harry murmered, the gutteral consonants of gobbledygook softer if not absent altogether and sounding all the more foriegn for the fact. 

Before Rishard could ask what the prayer (at least he assumed it was a prayer) meant, a skeletally-thin elderly man with parchment-like skin, high-widow-peaked thinning black hair that fell in a sparse sheet to the top of his muggle-formal pin-striped business suit's collar, and a sternly-amused expression stepped out from a darkly shadowed wall. He took in the scene with a thousandth of a second's glance before meeting and holding Harry's gaze, as he asked, "Are you certain?" 


	10. Memento Mori

Ragn’rok refrained from offering Headmaster Dumbledore the generally polite goblin-to-wizarding-public greeting, noting the immediate narrowing in the headmaster’s gaze suggesting that the Wizard seemed aware of its absence. 

~~~Interesting~~~ 

Despite numerous inquiries of local and foriegn branches, alike, Dumbledore was largely a mystery to the Gringott’s administration - barring the fact that - guided by no logics discernable to either Ragn’rok, his brother, the London branch’s seers, or their advisors - the Wizard had, on several identifiable (and quite a number of suspected but as yet unverified) occasions, taken actions that directly impacted Gringott’s interests though seeming to have no direct impact or even noticeably tangential gain to the wizard’s own interests: 

    Having his sister’s child (from a nameless -though suspected to be one of her attackers- sire) removed to the ‘colonies’ with what their researchers believed to be a nearly equitable share of the Dumbledore estate was perhaps not so surprising given the scandal that had already been brewing around the family; although there was, in Ragn’rok’s mind something distinctly suspect in the closely timed disappearance of a long-guarded cursed object from the Grindewald Family Vaults, the deaths of the Grindelwald and Dumbledore account managers, and the sinking of the well-charmed ship that was to have delivered the child to the colonies. 
    The later dissolution, at Albus Dumbledore’s orders, of the Dumbledore family’s vaults from all branches of Gringotts - after the mother’s death - had been no less suspect nor logical, when the family continued to live and work in the wizarding world while presumably holding their finances in muggle institutions. 
    Similarly, less than a year later, the Grindelwald heir, possibly under Albus Dumbledore’s influence - removed the family’s holdings, or at least the portion of holdings had not been excluded from the heir’s control by family charter, from all branches of Gringotts to presumably transfer to non-magical institutions. 
    The Dumbledore scion’s later published articles, casting aspersions on the integrity of Gringotts’ resourcing representatives - had done little to endear the nation to the wizard- especially after members of the Alchemy Guild began to follow the wizard’s leads and increasingly went through the wizard’s unidentified sources instead of Gringotts, despite age-old favorable and equally profitable between the two communities. 
    The pattern only continued as the wizard - on being hired into the transfiguration position - had redesigned the Transfiguration courses at Hogwarts to exclude the use of the commonly used transfiguration blocks that had been customarily provided by Gringotts at minimal fees - lower even than the expenses of the new materials required from other Dumbledore-approved suppliers. 
    In Ragn’rok’s opinion, however, the wizard’s greatest offences that had been only barely discernible and only barely provable were the manipulations that had seen one of Gringotts’ previous generations of ward’s obliviated, sent down from Gringotts’ care, and returned to an abusive guardian - through no fault of the talented and much-deserving child. 
    Out of any of the cursed scion’s actions, those directed at the young Riga’nok - if anything- made the most sense, given Harry’s inherited, prophesied, and potential political power - though were no less forgivable for the at least discernable motivations. 

Drawn by his thoughts to search out the young Riga’nok, Ragn’rok scanned the ‘Great Hall’ and easily spotted Harry, who was subtly coordinating the shift from seating invitees to officiating the event using the familiar signs and gestures taught to every stripling from cart driver to crup breeder as a matter of course. It was rather surprising to watch how efficiently the transition progressed under the young Riga’nok’s management. While he had allowed himself to hope that the stripling’s potential influence - seeded by the heirs and heiresses observations of the positive influence the child held over the other Gringotts’ wards - would grow with exposure to their model, he had truly not hoped to witness its returns so soon. 

Of course, he hardly needed his brother’s amused snicker (no doubt at noticing his own reaction - for when did the magister not notice everything) to remind him that he should have anticipated the result - having repeatedly witnessed how Harry’s earnest concern and protectiveness; honest desire to earn his place and any respect afforded him; and inherent belief in others’ equality regardless of race, gender, or background - so easily disarmed even the most guarded among their community and won over any whom he allowed close enough to see these traits. Yet, once again, the Riga’nok had proven his ability to surprise others - even those who perhaps knew him best. 

Watching with amusement as the duel was quickly commenced and as quickly ended, to the House of Lords’ favor, Ragn’rok noted that he would have to ask Harry who had planned the details of the performance, particularly the opening recitations which both quickly and effectively captured the assembly’s attention while introducing both the House of Lords and the House of Lords’ preferred constraint and imbuing those restraints with such a tone of ritualism as to give them the air of being sacrosanct… so much so, that it seemed no one (outside of the vexing headmaster who tried unsuccessfully to decry the pursuant duel) realized that the offensive child who had insulted Potions Master Snape could have chosen not to be bound by the stated constraints - simply by refusing to restrict himself to the noted limits, rounds, or atonement specified. Ultimately, constraints had been to the Cunningham spawn’s benefit as the child had been as overmatched against Rishard as Harry had been to the dishonored Elder Cors’kel… with the matches almost equal in length (a factor that Cors’kel had soon come to regret). 

Harry’s respectably subtle reminder, after the duel’s completion, that simply challenging a named, younger heir of an Ancient and Noble house (instead of the primary heir or Lord of said house) was in and of itself a sufficient offence to have easily drawn the entire Cunningham line into a formal feud, potentially involving all of the long-standing alliances (and not insignificant number of declared supporters garnered by the defeat of Voldemort) had Harry not declared the matter inconsequential - served to both highlight the child’s rashness while impressing several members of the Wizengamot (based on their comments on both the subtlety of his warnings and the underlying knowledge of family and status laws affecting Ancient and Noble houses) and secure the father’s acceptance of the likely-unpalatable atonement in comparison to the potential ruination of his family’s interests. 

Observing the dour headmaster as the father reinforced that the child would in fact be serving the atonement, Ragn’rok felt a curl of dread in his gullet as he watched the wizard’s expression contort in fury at an alarmed shout from the Potion Master ordering Harry and Rishard to shield. The expression was non existent a thousandth of a second later, but its ferocity had been more than enough to put Ragn’rok on guard and to prompt a series of gestures between himself and the attendant defense masters ordering them to be on the guard for duplicity and antagonism toward their wards from the Headmaster. Engaged in planning additional contingencies with the defense masters and employees not dispatched to deal with the Riga’nok’s red-haired-attacker who it seemed was well-known to one of the attending curse breakers, Ragn’rok was nearly shamed by the depth of his surprise when the Magister interrupted his discussions to inform him of the developments occurring since he’d turned his attention away from the duel. 

“Why?1?” Ragn’rok demanded in gobbledygook, clenching his jaw, his eye teeth aching as the curl of dread grew. 

“To keep them out of the headmaster’s attentions and possibly save a potentially valuable ally,” his brother answered in kind. “Rishard has the experience and foreknowledge of the headmaster’s inclinations to anticipate any threat, and Harry’s training has progressed beyond what Dumbledore will have anticipated from the boy. They have the additional protection of Rishard’s golem-constitution and the galleonclaw armor that Harry carries, even in its novice form.” 

While he thought highly of the Potions Master, having heard many reports from the tutoring Defense Masters and his brother, and applauded the young man’s success in surmounting the many adversities of his early life, Ragn’rok’s eye-teeth were already aching with long familiar craving for revenge, and he did not want to risk the young Riga’nok and his golem in such an ill-fated venture. 

“One must risk to gain,” his brother annoyingly quoted the twenty-ninth maxim at him. 

“The question is whether there is gain to be had that is worth investing such resources,” Ragn’rok practically snarled, surprising several of the younger employees around him… but they would not remember the child, who had earned the nickname Paletot, nor understand the depth of loathing that Ragn’rok felt toward the headmaster for so readily condemning relative innocents. His brother would, however, and the knowing look he gave Ragn’rok was as telling as the barely veiled words as he offered, “do not mistake the desire for positive returns on a favorite investment with sentimentality; it does not bring as much shame to invest in a prospect with high potential returns as it does to ignore the prospect simply to avoid the ambiguity.” 

Granting his brother’s point with a nod, Ragn’rok turned to the task of co-opting the Board of Governors meeting and securing the Riga’nok and his golem as much time as possible without the headmaster’s interference. 

ブレンキン

"Shibou-yuki, ku-dahsai." Harry murmered, his eyes fixed on the Potion Master’s hand gripped in his brother’s, while trying to ignore the sheen of unshed tears glossing his brother’s eyes. 

Almost instantly, the skeletally-thin elderly entity, whom Harry had met at the end of President Ragn’rok’s review, stepped out of the shadows from where he’d been observing the scene. Now gifted with the ability to see the being’s presence as he had been with the tessen that the deity had given him on what Shibou-yuki had described as the successful completion of his review, Harry had been aware of their presence in the room since he and his brother arrived, though he had said nothing of it to Rishard, uncertain whether he would call upon Shibou to intervene. 

There was no question whether Harry desired their professor’s survival, but the deity’s instructions and boundaries had been clear. To raise his brother’s hopes if intervention wasn’t possible was beyond cruel and could irreparably scar his relationship with his adopted brother - a brother whom Shibou had made clear that he would have ultimately responsibility over for as long as he allowed his golem to live. The risk of such a possibly devastating blow when there may be nothing to gain went against the tenants he had been raised to hold, and though it should not have been the greater consideration, his absolute desire to protect Rishard. 

It was instinct alone - whispering that Severus was key to Rishard’s long term well-being- that ultimately had Harry summoning Death’s living embodiment from the shadows. 

The anachronistic image that Shibou preferred of a withered 1940’s businessman complete with double-breasted, muggle-formal, pin-striped business suit, complete with high-widow-peaked thinning black hair hanging in sparse sheet to the top of his head like a balding 1960’s hipster, were somehow just as amusing to Harry as it had been on their first introduction, and Harry somehow suspected that was precisely Death’s intention. 

Wearing sternly-amused expression, Death confirmed the thought with a nod before he studied the scene with moment’s glance and asked, "Are you certain?" 

Well-trained to listen for subtle nuances of language, under the Magister Magia’s instruction, Harry felt an immediate flare of hope. Death would not have phrased his question so, if it were not possible to preserve the professor’s life. 

“If it is possible to save him, without costing another’s life? Yes.” Harry answered bluntly, ignoring the sharp jerk of Rishard’s head in his direction. 

“It is not Mr. Snapes appointed time, so intervention is possible, and would require no other death than his own, but you realize that you would be taking on the onus of his survival?” 

“That makes no se…” Rishard interrupted, clearly too troubled by the professor’s possible death to recognize the meaning of Shibou’s words. Thankfully, he quieted at Harry’s raised hand and let him get on with it. 

“How?” 

“Lesson two in using my gift,” Shibou commented, gesturing to the tessen before he turned to the mirror and studied it before smiling in a manner that Harry thought he should probably find frightening. 

“I do like the irony,” Shibou explained… explaining nothing... really ... until his hand reached into the mirror and pulled out a glowing crimson gem. 

“I imagine Albus Dumbledore will come to regret having made this.” Shibou commented as he studied the gem turning it over and over in his falsely frail-appearing fingertips. “Without knowing it, he created the perfect vessel wanting only to be filled with the necessary soul-magic to be a true Philosopher’s Stone. It needs only Mr. Snapes willing acceptance to make the transfer.” 

“A horcrux,” Rishard gasped, finally understanding. 

“Oh, no,” Shibou denied, turning a mocking gaze, “Nothing quite so flawed or crude as a horcrux. Nothing so arrogant.” 

His attention fully on Rishard now, Shibou took the opportunity that Harry suspected he had only held back from in deference to Rishard’s clear upset, the deity seeming conversely cold and caring at odd intervals - when he wasn’t bored, amused, or disdainful. 

“So many arrogant creatures, like yourself, have thought to cheat me. Uncomprehending the extent of my age or the breadth of my knowledge. You populate this miniscule little planet, in an inconsequential little solar system, not even central to the fetal galaxy you barely mar the existence of - and think you have achieved something when you have out-lived those around you by hundreds or even thousands of years - and yet the full extent of your lives will not equate to even a blink of my eyes… all the while forgetting that it is I who decided how death operates, who wrote the rules by which all reapers abide, and who designed the so very, temporary means that mortals may use to step outside of death. Neither you, nor any other before you have yet cheated death, merely used and miss-used the means I have writ to step out of the cycle. A horcrux...” 

“I apologize for interrupting, Shibou,” Harry interjected, cognizant of the time possibly slipping away from them, the delaying of their professor’s suffering, and Rishard’s discomfort with the subject. Harry wasn’t ignorant of the fact that Rishard, as Voldemort, had probably more than earned the lecture, but really, was now the best time for it? 

“They’re going to be your responsibility, Riga’nok,” Shibou commented with a shrug, again seeming to read his thoughts, “It’s something to keep in mind.” 

“I understand. Thank you. You said that this would require the tessen?” 

“Yes, and Mr. Snape’s permission. Have you gotten it?” 

“He’s unconscious.” Harry pointed out, wondering how he should have gotten the older wizard’s permission when Snape had been unconscious since before Shibou had stepped out of the shadows. 

“Ah, yes, well, I suppose I might have forgotten to mention that one. Using the folded tessen, tap him lightly on the shoulder.” 

Following Shibou’s instructions, Harry took his tessen from where it was stuck to his waist, lightly tapped the professor on the shoulder, and immediately stepped back as the Potion Master’s spirit rose from his body as tangible as any of the ghostly residents of Hogwarts though seeming of a different composition. 

“How could this… I don’t understand.” Severus questioned, staring uncomprehendingly down over his own body. 

“I promise you, both of you,” Harry began, including Rishard in the promise, “that I can and will explain later. The important part of the explanation, though, Professor, is that despite what the prophecy implied about your possible death this year, this is not the appointed time for your death. If you want, I can bring you back from death …” 

“The damage from runespoor venom would be too great,” Severus explained in his ‘Professor Snape’ tone though somewhat more gently - softening it with a sad smile. 

“No, I can’t save your body. You’re right, you’re dying, but …” glancing between Rishard and Death as he tried to figure out how to say it, Harry hesitated before just going with the far less - if not completely accurate explanation of: “At Gringotts, I learned how to give you a new one, but only with your permission.” 

Shaking his head, with the same thin, sad smile, Severus tried to refuse, again, “While I appreciate the offer, Harry, the rituals that you would have to use to do so are invariably dark. I would not have you sully your soul to save me and cannot believe that your guardians would have you do so either. I meant what I said; you, your brother, and the other heirs are too good, too important to risk yourselves with something like this, so... well, it’s okay... let me go. You can let me go.” 

“Severus, please…” Rishard began to plead when Shibou suddenly and uncharacteristically interrupted, holding the Philosopher’s Stone high for Severus to see. 

“Not all of my methods are dark.” Shibou retorted. “There is no ritual or pledge that young Harry need make to capture your soul in this stone, and no sacrifice required to give you a new body and a new start. That much of the prophecy is accurate. You can be un-marked and free- your past expiate, without it costing any death other than that of your current physical body, which -as you say- is already too damaged.” 

“Death?” Severus questioned, clearly hazarding a guess, surprised, though not particularly frightened of Shibou. 

“Clever.” Shibou answered with a nod and a sardonic bow, sweeping one arm out. 

“Er… Thank you.” Severus answered, appearing more discomfited by Shibou’s bow, than by Shibou’s identity, prompting a slight chuckle of amusement from the entity. “It’s never who I expect it from.” 

Whether Death meant the professor’s gratitude or equanimity, Harry couldn’t say, but could tell that Shibou, while amused was starting to get impatient for an answer. 

“Professor… Severus, do I have your permission?” 

Instead of answering Harry though, Severus questioned Death directly, “Your sure, neither will have to tarnish their souls or sacrifice themselves or any others… even animals?” - clearly well informed of several other methods of resurrecting the dead. 

“Quite sure. The process is akin to advanced applications of magical pottery requiring only an inconsequential donation of the caster’s blood and magic - both of which are blessed and purified by magic in the process, so you need not have any concern there.” 

Severus still, stubbornly mulled the answer over for several seconds before finally nodding, with the not quite sincere explanation, “I’d like to see how this ends…” gesturing between Harry and some direction that probably referred to the headmaster. 

“Good choice,” Shiobou commented amusement once again clear in his tone, “It looks to be a good show. Riga’nok, you will need to double tap his shoulder, and be ready with the tessen to direct his soul into the Philosopher’s Stone, the same way that you caught and sealed the rodent’s attack. The stone will do the rest. After the stone absorbs Mr. Snape’s spirit, you will need to seal it as you did the rodent’s attack though in parseltongue or gobbledygook, or both, so that Dumbledore will not be able to trace it. To preserve the stone’s integrity, either you or your ‘brother’ will need to carry it on you, until you can return to your guardians and install it in a new form.” 

“I understand, thank you.” Harry answered truly grateful and understanding that they had used up their allotment of Death’s time. 

“Back to your rescue, then,” Shibou answered his voice dismissing them after his form had already vanished. 

ブレンキン

Ragn’rok was torn between relief and deep sadness as he watched the young Riga’nok and his golem enter the Board Meeting in two columns with the rest of the House of Lords, who had been delayed on the pretense of having to restore the Great Hall to its proper order for the afternoon meal. Neither heir seemed injured or even upset, if you were not watching their eyes. Their eyes said a great deal more, however, and Rag’nok could not help but pause to mourn the Potions Master. 

Despite being sent away from their care, Little Paletot had grown into an impressive wizard, excelling in the arts that Rag’nok’s mate, Potions Mistress Blightscure, had schooled the curt and particular child in from the first day of the child’s care when he had been caught sneaking into the nearby apothecary stores lead there by his sense of smell when the child was feeling homesick to the child’s last day in their care when the Prince Lord - who though previously seeming content with their care of the abused and neglected stripling - suddenly visited Gringotts to withdraw all of the Houses accounts and repudiate the child as an heir, before taking all of the Prince holdings overseas while leaving the child behind, made exempt from the Guardians’ custody as they had no longer been able to argue that the mistreatment of young Severus could be construed in anyway as affecting Gringotts interests. 

They were left with no choice but to obliviate the child and return him to the Snape family, when Lord Prince died of an unknown illness overseas, leaving the estate to an uninspiring member of a distaff branch with the funds never since returned to any of Gringotts’ Branches. (It was only eight month’s prior when the frequency of the Headmaster using Severus to visit the Gringott’s wards pricked their interest and prompted Rishard and his advisors to look back into the events surrounding the one-time ward’s removal from Gringotts’ custody and turn up tenuous confirmation from Wizengamot notes remarking that a proposed date for a closed session would not be possible as the Prince Lord and the Headmaster had a previously arranged appointment for that date and time (only hours before the Prince Lord’s visit to Gringotts to remove the family’s holdings and disavow his grandson. The circumstances of the Old Lord’s death were harder to dispute, but it was somewhat telling that in those same notes, it had been remarked that the Prince Lord could easily attend any rescheduled appointment having the remainder of the month free of appointments - without any indication of scheduled trips overseas. Blightscure had even suggested that the symptoms attributed to the Prince Lord could have been caused by a combination of potions, without evidence at the time, however, the argument had been useless.)) 

Which reminded Ragn’rok, he would need to inform Blightscure to buy wheat to burn in their one-time ward’s honor. It was not too late in the season to call home Carl’n’krell and Tenblades who would no doubt wish to honor the young ward who had frequented their quarters during his too short time at Gringott’s. Tenblades, in fact, when they last spoke, still followed Paletot’s published articles and teased her mother when ever the talented potions master made improvements in one of the potions she’d taught him as a child. 

Silently observing the Riga’nok and his golem as they watched the Headmaster with guarded gazes, Ragn’rok silently vowed to himself to redouble his research on the wizard. It was well past time that the goblins of Gringotts discovered the vexing old creature’s motivations and plans.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I can somehow hardly believe that I've reached the end to this sequel to Gringott's Lesser Known Branch. I hope you find the conclusion in line with what I've promised moving forward and a consistent perspective both on Snape (and the House of Lords from a relative-outsider's eyes). 
> 
> I have truly and deeply appreciated the supportive feedback that I have received and have looked forward to every message that came in, even though not often responding back. 
> 
> The next sequel, Harrison Peverell-Potter and the House of Lords, will pick up from Harry's somewhat bruised, if successful, return from the Annual Review and carrying through the Harry's first year at Hogwarts (through the duel at Yule and Severus's death, to a revisit from a persistent wraith who believes he may know more than one way to get into Hogwarts, to the end of the year banquet and a surprising announcement from Minerva) told from a mix of perspective - much like Gringott's Lesser Known Branch. 
> 
> Before leaving off though, I wanted to just sum up a few points brought out in this fic (that either tie in or might be touched on in later sequels):
> 
>      Although Harry was thoroughly trounced by Elder Cors'kell, he passed his review (and Cors'kell came to regret his easy win against the child).
>     Minerva, Severus, and Filius shared fairly close friendships, and Minerva was an on again/off-again drinking buddy for Severus when putting up with Dunderheads got exhausting. Oh, and Minerva had a rather clever way of hiding her student's confiscated contraband.
>     For LOTR officianados, Voldemort is Tulkas' heir while Severus was Hurin and Turin's heirs, and Albus (in addition to being a vile jerk) is an embodiment of the 'original' dark lord, Morgoth whose been conspiring against the three families for millenia (The three families being the potter line, Guant/Riddle line, and the Prince line.) 
>     As a potential Prince heir, Severus had been removed from the abuse - on his father's part- and neglect -on his mother's part, raised for a time in Gringotts care, and taught early potion's skills by Ragn'rok's wife... until Dumbledore interfered and by means not yet detailed convinced or compelled Severus's grandfather to renounce him as heir and remove him from Gringotts' custody. (Some of the early groundwork for this was laid in chapter four of Gringott's Lesser Known Branch, with comments on Severus understanding fluent Gobbledygook, being familiar enough with the Goblins protocols to spot the guards tailing them, having an odor reminiscent of training with a defense master, and not wasting teeth on smiles the way other humans do). There were some more as well, but they may have been moved over to one of the sequel's plot points. I can't remember at the moment. 
>     Dumbledore was forced to create an incomplete Philosopher's Stone (stingily refusing to finish it off by donating his own soul magic to it's completion). Death, of course knowing more than he's willing to say, is fairly certain that he's going to regret doing that.
>     Harry has already met Death, who's using the Japanese title Shibou-Yuki, for reasons that won't be touched on immediately and who gave him a diety-endowed ancient metal fan that - without using any sort of dark ritual - turned the fake Philosopher's stone into a real one by imbuing it with Severus's intact soul - no soul shard here, so not a horcrux but a death approved 'temporary break' from the life and death cycle, that goes by a different name in other communities, more on that later.
>     Death in this fic is a quirky and snarky version of Death from the Supernatural universe with a few rougher edges and more of a Death's not just a Christian/four-horseman-defined diety. 
>     And, last but not least, Severus Snape, Potion Master Extraordinaire is dead. Longlive Paletot, Ragn'rok's favorite little ward, despite what the President's eye-teeth are telling him about Harry (Harry's good, Harry's great, a fabulous investiment, but Paletot... Paletot was the child he brought into his home.) Oh, also, Ragn'rok won't mourn Paletot long, it just didn't seem wise for Harry to share the news in the heart of the headmaster's territory.
>     Oh, one last note, I apologize in advance to any Hagrid and Aragog fans... while they won't be the worst villains in the upcoming sequels, they are firmly in the headmaster's court.
> 
> Thank you again, many times over for your wonderful comments and support.  
> Take care,  
> Brennah_k


End file.
